


tested and pained, blessed and sustained

by The Byger (Byacolate)



Series: Easily [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Actual Avenger Stiles Stilinski, Alpha!Papa Stilinski, Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, Codependency, Fluff and Angst, Human!Derek, M/M, Multi, Past Character Death, Possessive Behavior, Werewolf!Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:03:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/pseuds/The%20Byger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We spent four days camping in the Rockies just for you to prove it was possible to ‘live off the land’ and ‘get back to your wolfy roots’,” Derek said, bringing up his free hand for those sassy airquotes, “and by the fourth day, you'd snuck into the nearby village before I’d woken up to buy yourself magazines and a skinny latte.”</p><p>“I think the point you’re missing here is that I was a true man of the wild for four whole days, Derek. You can’t scoff at that.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To avoid confusion, all the little blurbs that follow each chapter under the border line are flashbacks of little scenes in this universe that in some way are vaguely inspired by their preceding chapter.

 

 

 

_We are tested and pained by what's beyond our bed; we are blessed and sustained by what is not said. - Joanna Newsom_

 

Derek let out a shaky breath, not quite of a mind to notice as the steam curled up toward the waning moon. He limped over to the body, because he had to make sure, make _certain_ she was dead.  
  
The eyes of Kate Argent were open and dull, unseeing, blood clotting on her lashes. Derek kicked her just to be sure, but her body just moved with his foot, limp. She could never try to hurt them again, but somehow that didn’t calm him down at all.  
  
A groan came from behind, and Derek took in a breath. “Stiles?” he called out. Shouldn’t he have been healed from the grenade already? Derek went over to him, heart leaping into his throat when he saw that no, Stiles wasn’t healed like he should have been. The night was dark, and Stiles had fallen into the shadow of one of the junked cars, ratcheting Derek’s heartrate up to a pace he knew wasn’t healthy as he lurched toward the sound of Stiles’ ragged breathing. He was warm, almost too warm when Derek finally got his hands on Stiles’ body, sticky with blood and sweat. Something that might have been words tried to gurgle out of Stiles’ lips but Derek shushed him and pulled him up, apologizing under his breath over and over, like a mantra.  
  
“W’lfs...”  
  
“I know, wolfsbane, I figured it out,” Derek breathed, shifting around until he was behind Stiles and wrapping his arms snugly beneath Stiles’ armpits to heft him up. His movements were jerky with haste as he looped one of Stiles’ arms over his shoulders and then crouched down once more to sweep Stiles’ knees out from under him, lifting him with strength and speed only adrenaline could provide.  
  
He grunted against Derek, head lolling freely. Derek raced to the jeep, a buzzing in his ears as the dull roar left from the grenade began to fade. There was no sign of Isaac Boyd or Erica, nor the cronies Kate had brought with her, but Derek honestly wasn’t going to worry about them. All thoughts of Kate’s dead body were gone from his mind, not even pausing to wonder if they should have tried to hide it. He got Stiles in the backseat, spread out along it. “Just hold on, alright? I’m taking you to the clinic. Stiles, keep talking to me.”  
  
There was a wet sound which was probably supposed to be a laugh. “I dunno wadda say...” he mumbled, already affected by the blood loss. Derek cupped his cheek for the briefest moment before he rooted around in Stiles’ front jean pocket and grabbed his keys, well aware that time was running out. His hands shook as he jumped into the front seat and shoved the keys in the ignition, every motion far too sluggish for his wired brain. Staving off what he felt might be a panic attack, Derek sped out of the junkyard enclosure, roaring down the main road.  
  
The rattling beat of Stiles’ keychains hitting the paneling over every little bump was like a little reminder that the clock was ticking. If he didn’t make it to Deaton soon, Stiles would die.

* * *

_Weeks and weeks before..._

  
Derek woke up to something pressing against his leg. Of course, he knew that it was Stiles, and he even knew what familiar part of Stiles it was. He rolled over and faced him, not sure if the werewolf was awake or he was just pressing against him in his sleep. Whichever it was, Derek started kissing along his jaw, because one glance at the clock told him that it was close enough to their wake up alarm to merit a somewhat early start.  
  
His own dick was stiff and sensitive under the cotton of his briefs as he wiggled down just enough and swung his top leg over Stiles’ to find the perfect angle before he slowly tilted his hips forward. A long, low groan dragged out of his lips as he rocked again, tightening his grip over Stiles’ powerful thighs when a hot hand curved over his hip and gripped tight.  
  
Brown eyes flew open, a hint of blue surrounding them in the soft gray of early dawn. Stiles pressed closer, both with his crotch and his head, bending to suck quickly right below Derek’s ear. “Hell of a good morning,” he whispered, and grunted when Derek’s thigh moved against his balls. Stiles tugged Derek’s bottom lip between his teeth just to make him shudder, and as soon as Derek’s sigh evolved into a gasp, Stiles let go and sucked on it instead, cupping Derek’s ass and jerking him forward. They both had to pause and curl their toes at that, so Stiles did it again.  
  
Derek let out a low, tortured groan, slowly fucking into the hollow of Stiles’ hip. But then the shrill bark of the alarm went off, and Derek ended up tumbling off the bed in surprise. “Shit!” He grabbed onto the blankets, but ended up just bringing them down with him.  
  
Stiles was on the bed, now sitting up, hand on his mouth to try and keep his giggles down. “Oh, to be gifted with the grace of a swan.”  
  
“Shut up, Stiles.”  
  
He peeked over the side, cackling at the sight of Derek sprawled out, legs and arms akimbo with the blanket barely covering his flagging boner. Stiles slapped his alarm until it went quiet, and then he went back to looking down at Derek’s frowny face. “You look really upset. Is it because you fell out of bed?”  
  
“No,” Derek muttered, reaching up to pinch Stiles’ cheeks together and purse his lips. “That alarm means we have to get ready for school now.”  
  
“Oh, come on,” Stiles scoffed. “We have more than enough time to get off.”  
  
“No we don’t,” Derek pointed out. “Thanks to your can-do attitude last night, and yes, I mean can do _me_ \- ” Stiles looked way too pleased with himself, “ - we both are in serious need of a shower.”  
  
“Then let’s just -”  
  
“We can’t take a shower together because I have to find something of mine that’s clean in your closet. Which could take upwards of half an hour, if I’m lenient on your cleaning skills.”  
  
Stiles scoffed at that. “My cleaning prowess is awesome. And may I point out that if you didn’t go all incredible hulk these past months, you would still be able to wear my clothes.” He glared, poking Derek in the chest when that expectant face didn't relent. “Fine, I’ll just have to soap up my incredibly sexy body all by myself then.” He walked to the bathroom with an exaggerated sway in his hips. Derek tossed a pillow at him and it missed him completely, landing in the hall, much to Stiles’ delight. He tossed it back and it hit Derek smack dab in the face. Derek would have jumped up to retaliate if the bathroom door didn’t close down the hall just seconds later.  
  
By the time they were completely ready for school, Stiles had to grudgingly admit that they wouldn’t have had time to get up to anything in the bedroom (or the shower, or against the kitchen counter). Still, he grumbled as they climbed into his jeep, “If you weren’t so apt to be friggin’ punctual all the time, I could have sucked you off twice by now. What does it matter if we miss the first couple hours, or even the entire day?” Derek quirked a brow. “All the cool kids are doing it.”  
  
“We’re not cool kids,” Derek reminded him, handing over half of his granola bar.  
  
“Maybe this is why.”  
  
“Just drive. And try not to think too much about sucking me off,” Derek said with a super unsubtle smirk. Stiles did love having a cock in his mouth, that much was clear during their summer together. How would they now be expected to sit through class all day and not get off even once after such a long, decadent summer? But Derek was bound and determined to be a good student, so they were going to be in class the whole day. And _then_ let Stiles suck him off.  
  
Stiles was determined to make them at least a little late, though, because he pulled into a Starbucks as Derek was distracted checking his missed texts from Laura. They waited in the agonizingly long line behind the morning rush of other sleep-deprived new seniors and business workers, and Derek would have said something about it except Stiles was on a roll babbling about how great it was to finaly be seniors and have so many matching classes, and then sighing about how Derek just had to go and have his own personal interests and make three whole periods between their schedules differ.  
  
“Yeah, it’ll be great, as long as we get to class early enough so they don’t give us detention right off the bat,” Derek said, rolling his eyes and checking his watch. The first day of school normally didn’t mean much, they never did any real work, but it was still the first day of school, and pretty important to be on time. Well, not according to Stiles, but the world would be a very different place if everything was according to Stiles.  
  
“Pfft. You worry too much.”  
  
“Says the one who lands us in detention one hundred percent of the time.”  
  
“Hey, you’re the willing accomplice, my friend. We can’t be separated, not even in crime. We’re Bonnie and Clyde.”  
  
Derek regarded him evenly. “Weren’t they shot to death?”  
  
“Okay, the analogy was totally appropriate until you brought death into the equation, sunshine.”  
  
“‘Appropriate’ is the word you’re going for there?”  
  
“Shut up before I kiss that sass right out of your mouth. Hi, yeah, can I get two iced hot chocolates, please? The biggest size you got. Extra whip.”  
  
Derek groaned at the order. “We can hardly finish one of those together, how are we going to finish one each? And, need I remind you, in the sixteen minutes we have before class starts?”  
  
“Fine, only one then. Thanks.” Stiles handed over the change, and looked over his shoulder. “Our first class is with Finstock, and he’s normally five minutes late anyway. We’ll be fine, stop worrying.” And then, just because, he leaned over and planted a loud, wet kiss on Derek’s cheek, snickering when he was given an affronted glare right back.  
  
By the time they finally made it to their first period, Stiles was already slightly buzzed from the sugar, and Derek made a quick grab for what was left of the iced hot chocolate as Stiles swung around, his nose just slightly in the air. “Isaac! Dude!” He jumped at their classmate, who lurched into the classroom only seconds behind them. “We missed you last night!”  
  
“Doubt it,” Isaac said, smirking over at Derek.  
  
Derek looked away, and finally downed the last of the drink before tossing it in the trash can. “I hope you had fun.”  
  
“Yeah, Erica has a lot of good comics. She keeps them in weirdly pristine condition, too. She takes better care of them than she does her cat.”  
  
And just like that, Erica was behind Isaac, and rubbed his curly hair. “Aww, it’s so sweet that you say that. Maybe I’ll give you one of my Incredible Hulks.”  
  
Stiles stood there as Isaac touched him discreetly, scenting him as they did whenever they were apart for more than a day, and once he was satisfied, Isaac moved on to Derek, knocking against his shoulder and just standing there. Stiles looked pleased. “Awesome that you guys made it to this period, too! I’m guessing it was too much to ask that the big guy make it as well?”  
  
“He tried to change his schedule, but it was too late,” Erica confirmed, folding her arms over her chest. “He wants to know if we can come over after school. You know, to catch up. Since you guys only got back the other week.”  
  
Derek discretely grabbed the bottom of Stiles’ shirt, not tugging but holding firm. Stiles gave a smile and shrugged. “Maybe another night? I still have some unpacking to do.” Which was a lie, but only Derek knew, and only because everything they had brought back was already put away. Isaac didn’t hear the lie though, because by now, Stiles was much too good at regulating his heartbeat. After all, his father was the alpha, and he had to work twice as hard as other children to deceive his parent. “Dad’s gonna want everyone by soon, though, so it won’t be long. Probably tomorrow. Sorry we couldn’t get around to it earlier.”  
  
Erica huffed, leaning against Stiles. For the first time, it seemed, she let her eyes travel over Derek’s body. “Also, hold up - you guys did _not_ just visit colleges. What the hell, Derek? Did you forget to take a car with you on your cross country trip and just haul everything yourself?”  
  
He looked confused, trying to see what she was joking about. “No... we had a car.”  
  
She walked up to him, palming a gargantuan bicep. “Right, so maybe you just bench pressed the car. Either way, I hardly recognized you.”  
  
Stiles snickered, and then pulled Derek to go sit down so that they would get seats next to each other. If worse comes to worst, he could just tell someone to move, but that might not be the best thing to do on their first day. Erica and Isaac grabbed seats behind them, and yeah, being surrounded by pack felt good. Derek didn’t feel the pull as strongly as Stiles did; as a human, he did not feel bereft without them, nor did he really feel the need to touch them all the time. He knew Erica didn’t either, not really, but they both enjoyed being a part of it. And Derek had been close to Stiles for over a decade - he was more than used to their constant need to scent each other, and play, and touch. He understood the necessity of pack. He was just... a little reluctant to have to suddenly share Stiles with everyone again after a summer alone together.  
  
The class dragged on and on, and the minutes felt like hours. They didn’t get to any actual work, just introducing each other (though everyone knew everyone else) and outlining the class (same as last year). Finstock spent a few minutes relating economics to Lacrosse, which was pretty normal for him, so no surprise there.  
  
The real problem Derek was having was Stiles. He kept sucking on the end of his pencil, like he enjoyed it, lips plumped around the tip, his cheeks hollowed. It was driving Derek crazy, and he was sure that Stiles knew exactly what it was doing to him. Of course he knew - he kept looking over to meet Derek’s eyes every five seconds to smirk and run his tongue over the tip of the eraser. When he whipped out his phone under the desk, Derek knew it could only mean trouble, but when his own phone vibrated, he dutifully pulled it out anyway to check the message. _I wanted to suck you so bad this morning._  
  
Yep. Definitely trouble.  
  
Derek tucked his phone away before the teacher saw it -Wouldn’t _that_ be embarrassing to be read out loud? And then he looked to the front of the class, until he saw out of the corner of his eye that now it was his finger Stiles was chewing on. This was going to be a very long day.  
  
His phone vibrated again, and he just couldn’t help himself. _I still could, you know. The bathrooms have a lock on the door._  
  
Finstock turned in their direction and Derek was quick to hide his phone, even jumping a bit when it buzzed for the third time not even two minutes later.  
  
 _Or the locker rooms. They’re empty until period three. I could pick the lock._ Another buzz. _We could turn the showers on. Make it hot and wet. I could fuck u open with my tongue._  
  
At the last one, Derek had to close his eyes and will his body to cool down. This was why Stiles always got him in detention. But, let's face it, he'd already tripped and fallen far, far into the rabbit hole. He texted back. _Or I could suck you. You could knot my mouth._  
  
There was a small clatter, and Derek looked over to Stiles picking up his phone with a sheepish grin. If there was one way to get him going, it was to mention knotting. It might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn Stiles’ eyes were tinged with blue. _Where’s your control?_ he fired off before Stiles could even get around to replying.  
  
 _Uh, duh, it flew out the window and got hit by a bus the minute you mentioned my knot anywhere near u._ Another buzz interrupted Derek’s response. _Shame on you, you don’t even look sorry._  
  
 _I’m not_. Derek could hardly hide the smile on his face, which is why he got yelled at by Finestock.  
  
The bell rang and they all started making their way to their next class. They were just passing a random door when Stiles opened it and pulled him inside.  
  
“You got me so worked up. I wanna fuck you, right here, show me how much you get to me,” Stiles was muttering hotly against his neck.  
  
Derek let out a small groan, moving around in what seemed to be a dark janitors closet. “We only have five minutes till next class. Just... wait till lunch,” he said, and kissed Stiles back, opening his mouth for his tongue. Stiles growled, trying to manhandle Derek back until they both jumped and broke apart. It was amazing how much of a startling racket falling brooms could make.  
  
“Lunch?” Stiles groaned, his forehead falling onto Derek’s shoulder. When Derek settled a hand around his neck, he could feel the wolf's pulse beating away like a rabbit's, just like his own. “That’s forever away.”  
  
“An hour and a half, tops,” Derek reminded him, and Stiles’ grown turned louder. “This is what I get for spoiling you,” Derek sighed, patting Stiles on the back. “Next time we go on a vacation alone together, remind me that we can’t be fucking around every other half hour or we get too used to it.”  
  
“Y’know, Isaac told me that we almost smell exactly the same now.”  
  
“I think you’re missing the point.”  
  
"I never miss the point. The point just isn't that good of a point." Stiles poked Derek in the chest, and shit, he knew that grin. Nothing good ever came of that grin. "Fine. Let's see if you can last 'til lunch, shall we?"  
  
When Stiles pushed the closet door open and popped back into the hall, Derek hastened to catch up and leaned over Stiles’ shoulder, hissing, “It’s not much of a challenge if you keep sending me texts.”  
  
“Who says I want a challenge?” Stiles snorted. “I’m hoping to wear you down long before lunch.”  
  
Derek shoved his shoulder to Stiles’ cackling delight, and they jostled each other into their next classes.  
  
Eventually, Derek stopped looking at his phone, because it just wasn't fair with the things Stiles kept sending him. How was anyone supposed to concentrate when they kept getting dirty texts like this? It was even worse because they were in different classes, and Stiles dealt with that by sending increasingly raunchy texts, (like hell Derek was going to find Stiles’ class and bend him over the teacher’s desk and plug him up with their emergency vibrator with everyone watching. Maybe if they’d planned ahead, though...).  
  
Half an hour before lunch time, Derek couldn't tear his eyes away from the clock. Stiles' last text was, _I can already feel your dick in my mouth, can taste your come._ It made him itch under his skin, and he was more than grateful that it was the first day of school where nothing was expected of them. If this continued throughout the year, he might have to learn to live without his cell phone for a day. Or weeks at a time.  
  
Five minutes before the bell rang, his phone buzzed one last time. _Locker room east side._ And then, of course, each second that he wasn’t rocketing out of his seat was agony.  
  
He had to make an effort not to run the whole way to the locker room. It was completely empty, just like Stiles had said it would be. "Stiles?" He called out, and then behind him, the door slammed shut.  
  
Derek whirled around to where Stiles was standing against the door and flicking the lock, a smirk on his face. Maybe if they weren’t horny teenagers with severe codependency issues, Derek might have laughed at the way Stiles lunged at him like a wild animal and tackled him back into the lockers, one hand behind his head to cushion the impact as he attacked Derek’s mouth. As it was, they were terribly dependent on each other’s touch, and after just one hour apart (and over twelve hours without getting off, Stiles’ hand down his pants reminded him) they were already at a ridiculous level of clingy lust. Derek dug his fingers into the meat of Stiles’ ass, bucking against him so hard that Stiles snarled.  
  
He started working at Derek's fly with both hands, and it was off in seconds. Stiles pushed down his pants and underwear, moaning at the feel of Derek's erection in his hand.  
  
"Tell me," Derek breathed when Stiles pulled away wetly to latch onto Derek's neck, "how was your second class?"  
  
"If I didn't know you were fucking with me," Stiles growled, cupping Derek's balls and giving them a tantalizing squeeze, "I would be _so_ exasperated with you right now."  
  
Derek let out a laugh, which was cut off with a moan when Stiles slid down onto his knees, and without waiting, just went down on his cock.  
  
It had taken him a while to learn how to deep throat, but ever since Stiles had certainly not let the skill go to waste.  
  
As was usual whenever he got a little greedy, Stiles shoved his hips back in an iron grip against the lockers and pulled back, lapping at his cockhead like a lollipop. Of course Derek had to groan and smush a hand against his own face at that ridiculous thought. Sometimes the dumbest metaphors came to mind when Stiles' mouth was on his dick.  
  
Derek put a hand on his head, feeling the short hair that covered Stiles' head. But he made sure not to push, because even though he was adept at deep throating, if he was pushed when he didn't expect it he could still gag. “Stiles,” he gasped, his thighs flexing with each aborted thrust of his hips. “Stiles, c’mon, wanna make it in time for the - the pizza.”  
  
“You shitting me?” Stiles grumbled, fisting Derek’s cock and jerking him in short, quick flicks of the wrist. “Cafeteria pizza blows, man.”  
  
“I dunno, I like it when you do it,” Derek responded, and Stiles actually sniggered against Derek’s toned belly.  
  
“Well too bad, I’m taking my time having my own lunch,” Stiles said with a smirk, and put his mouth back on Derek’s cock. Derek groaned and his head knocked back against the lockers.  
  
“Can’t believe you’d actually call this - no, wait, I can.” He grabbed both of Stiles’ wrists, still firmly planted on his hips, and tried again to jerk forward. “Stiles, it’s... we’ll have all evening to take our time, and anyone could come in at any moment, or try to, anyway. C’mon, come up here, let’s do this together.”  
  
Of course then Stiles had to make a haughty noise right against the thatch of hair above the base of his dick. Derek keened lightly. “S... stop, don’t argue with me, c’mup here and let me touch you...”  
  
But of course Stiles always had to have the last word, even in the symbolic sense, as he attached his mouth to Derek's balls and sucked. When he pulled away, it was with a grin, and he stood up against Derek.  
  
He sucked on Derek's lip and pulled him back away from the lockers, just enough to wind his arms around Derek's neck and jump. Derek caught him around the thighs and swung them around, pressing Stiles against the lockers where he'd just been and, once Stiles' legs were locked tight around him, he cupped Stiles' ass and rut against him frantically. "Not gonna last," he panted, and Stiles just grinned, swollen lips falling more and more open with every move.  
  
Stiles grabbed onto Derek's shoulders, holding on tight, amazed at the muscles that weren't there even a few months ago. But he didn't take time to really think about it, as Derek thrust against him, giving low groans.  
  
"Knew you'd be good at this," he panted, leaning forward just to bonk his forehead against Derek's. A blue ring circled his eyes and Derek shuddered.  
  
"If my reflexes," he grunted, "weren't so good, I might've dropped you." Stiles made a noise like that could never happen before he captured Derek's mouth in a quick, hot kiss.  
  
"Mmh, next time I wanna be fucked, I'm just g-gonna jump you like this, 'kay?"  
  
"You always do anyway," Derek said, and rutted against him, the lockers groaning from the weight. He was getting close, already on edge from the blow job.  
  
Stiles laughed, quiet and breathless, and raked his nails over Derek's thick shoulders. "Oh man, I want you to fuck me so bad. Let's just do that now. Just fucking stuff me with your cock, Derek, c'mon." And then Derek came, messy and hot all over Stiles' shirt, and Derek couldn't even bring himself to care, he was so gone.  
  
Stiles gasped, and the smell must have sent him over, because then he was coming in hot bursts, making his pants a mess.  
  
They fell away from each other, and each tried to catch their breath. Stiles was the first, and he gave a laugh. "Isaac and Boyd are gonna be able to smell it. You should have let me swallow you."  
  
Derek just groaned, rubbing his face and laughing quietly. "Me? You came in your pants, Stiles. You're... actually covered in come. On your shirt and in your pants. Do you even have a change of clothes?"  
  
For a long few seconds, he was on the receiving end of a very weird look. "You think I was prepared enough for this eventuality that I'd actually -"  
  
"No, then." Derek sighed scratched the back of his neck before tugging his pants back up, pulling his shirt back on, and holding out his hand. "Keys. I'll run home and grab you some clean clothes. You wait it out in here."  
  
Stiles groaned, in a completely different way than a few minutes ago. "But I don't wanna wait in here! It's boring and I'm hungry! Besides, you got some on your shirt too." He crossed his arms, over his chest, right above the huge come stain.  
  
Derek rolled his eyes and made a grabby motion with his fingers. "Yes, but only a little smear, whereas your shirt got the full package, and your come's already gotta be drying in your boxers. And I'm not bringing you with me, because the second we get home, you're gonna pull me into the shower and we'll end up missing the entire rest of the day. I'll grab us something to eat on the way back. Now shut up and give me your keys!"  
  
He huffed but handed over the keys anyway. "My dad's gonna be home. Have fun explaining it to him." He grinned, and then found a spot to sit and wait.  
  
"Don't remind me," Derek groaned. Before he left, he paused, then pulled his shirt off to turn it inside out before putting it back on again. He caught Stiles' raised brow and smirked. "He might think I'm an idiot, but at least he won't see the spunk."  
  
"Get the fuck out of here," Stiles laughed, tossing a sock at him.  
  
Twenty minutes and an awkward conversation later, Derek was back at the school with a change of clothes and a couple hamburgers. Stiles was, surprisingly, right where he had left him.  
  
"Lunch ended," Derek said, tossing Stiles his burger and then the clothes. Judging by the dampness of his hair and skin, he'd taken the time to shower off. Probably wise. "Why is nobody here?"  
  
"A couple guys came by," Stiles said with a shrug, wolfing down half the burger in four bites. "Coach hasn't come in, so they bailed."  
  
Derek rolled his eyes, munching his own burger. "Calculous next." One of the classes that Stiles refused to take with him. For whatever reason, Derek didn't care if he was late for a class that Stiles wasn't in.  
  
And Stiles knew it, punching Derek's shoulder after he pulled his new clothes on. "Aren't you gonna start groaning about missing a bit of class? Your precious mathematics?"  
  
"What are the odds of me giving two shits about playing name games with the same people I've known since we were in diapers?"  
  
Stiles thunked him on the back. "That's the spirit! We could've just gone out to eat if you were gonna be the wet blanket I know and love."  
  
He snorted and finished off the hamburger. "We still have to go to class." He didn't have to be on time, but he did at least have to be there.  
  
Stiles' lips curved down into a pout. An exaggerated one at that. "You're too hasty, making that decision. You haven't even heard my ten step plan for dropping out and getting rich and famous without ever having to leave our bed -"  
  
"I'm sure it was a wonderful plan, now let's get to class." Derek said with an eye roll, and pushed Stiles to the door. "Come on, and give me your phone. I don't want anymore texts from you."  
  
"I'm like, sixty-eight percent sure that if I don't text you at least once every ten minutes, I will drop dead," Stiles argued, clutching his phone tightly to his chest. "Did you even read the ones you sent while you were out for a burger run just now?"  
  
"You mean the ones with the subject line 'cummy dick pics'? While I was driving or talking to your father? No. No I did not."  
  
"Well you should definitely check them out. They put the 'sex' in 'sexy'. I'm not giving you my phone! I have a very boring few hours and my brain is likely to start oozing out of my ears if I have nothing to entertain myself with. And this is all your fault, you realize. If you had taken sewing instead of calculous, then I could throw you notes with drawings of penises on them like a normal teenager," Stiles said, still guarding his phone.  
  
Derek snorted with more vigor than was probably decent at that and when they came upon Derek's classroom, Stiles grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him in for a kiss.  
  
"I'll see you next class," Derek sighed. He was trying way too hard to sound exasperated and just came off as sickeningly fond. "Try not to wither and die without my constant presence."  
  
"It'll be a struggle. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, though, so that's a perk."  
  
Sweeping his thumb under Stiles' chin, Derek nodded sagely. "If you can last that long without texting -"  
  
"Not a chance."  
  
Derek rolled his eyes, and then heard the teacher right behind him. “Hale, would you like to join the rest of the class? If it’s not too much trouble, that is.”  
  
Without turning away from Stiles, Derek gave him a quick glare. “You could have warned me,” he grumbled under his breath before turning to the class and his teacher. “Sorry sir. I got lost. First day of the year and all that.” He gave a smile, and went to sit beside Isaac.  
  
As soon as he sat down, his friend covered his nose and leaned away. “Dude, no wonder I didn’t see you guys for lunch. You reek like sex.”  
  
With his eyes trained on the board, Derek felt his lips turn up into a little smirk. "Direct all your complaints to Stiles," he said under his breath, well aware that Isaac could hear him. "It's entirely his fault. And I mean that sincerely." He sealed his lips when the teacher looked their way, and when the coast was clear, "And the reason you didn't see us for lunch was because I had to run home and grab us both clothes that didn't _actually_ reek of sex. So you're welcome."  
  
There was a barely audible groan, and the next time there was a chance for talking, he said, “I am getting Boyd and Erica over to your house, and we are definitely going to make out in front of you two. For payback.”  
  
Derek tried to keep the smirk off his face. “Stiles would probably like that.”  
  
"... He'd just try to one-up me, wouldn't he."  
  
Covering his mouth with a hand, Derek disguised his laugh as a cough. Poorly. "You'd see things you never imagined -" A barrage of little bits of paper hit the side of his head and Derek dissolved into a coughing fit, waving off the concerned looks most of the girls around them threw him.  
  
Math was horribly boring, except for the texts he kept getting. Stiles must have mostly sated his appetite, because now they were mostly comments about how the teacher kept saying “True fact.” But he actually got some homework from this class, because their teacher was a slave driver. Derek was just glad that his last class was with Stiles.  
  
Isaac walked with him half of the way, where he stopped for his final class, and Derek paused at the water fountain to rehydrate. A few giggles sounded behind him and Derek straightened up, wiping the water off his mouth with the back of his hand. A small group of girls had paused behind him, each set of eyes avoiding Derek's face entirely. They stared at his chest, which - okay, yes, Stiles _had_ warned him that when full-frontal, his gaze could be a little intimidating. "Sorry," he muttered, moving out of the way so the girls could access the water fountain. It only puzzled him when none of them made a move toward it, just staring after him as he walked away.  
  
Then Stiles was there, and he seemed to be laughing. Derek gave him a look, and Stiles put his arm through his and walked him away. "The girls were talking about your butt. And then when I walked up, they said, and I quote, 'Oh my god, is that Derek Hale? When did he get so hot! It has to be him, he's with Stiles!' You seem to be quite popular now."  
  
Derek groaned and hung his head. "They only recognised me because I'm with you? That is so messed up."  
  
Which only made Stiles look more smug. "Their loss. I noticed your cute butt ages ago, so I get to reap the rewards of your playgirl phase."  
  
"Playgirl?" Derek cocked a brow. "Really?"  
  
"All I'm saying is that I would not object to high-res photos of you spread out naked on a velvet throw, my friend."  
  
“That’s funny, because I’m pretty sure you gave me pictures of you like that for Christmas last year. Which I opened. In front of my family.” Derek held the door open for their last class of the day.  
  
Stiles cackled at that. “It’s a good thing that you rock at keep-away games, or else that could have been very embarrassing for you.” He picked a desk at the back of the class, and was glad that they were in Physics, because that meant that they had a big desk to share, with only a sink between them.  
  
Settling their bags on the floor, Stiles nudged Derek's elbow and shoved something in his hands. "I snuck into the cafeteria after I dropped you off at your last class," Stiles explained when Derek unwrapped a brownie from many layers of plastic wrap. "I knew you probably had to be hungry even after that burger because, let's face it, you burn more calories than you eat during the school year, and that's just not good for you."  
  
"Want half?" Derek asked, breaking the treat in two and waving it in Stiles' direction. He was brushed off.  
  
"Nah, I nabbed about seven while I was sweet-talking the lunch ladies."  
  
Derek shot him an appraising look. "I'm impressed. You didn't even stoop to the level of eating from my hand in front of everyone."  
  
"Was that a bait? Were you baiting me to see if I'd suggestively lick your fingers during class?" Stiles pressed a hand to his heart theatrically. "I'm wounded, Derek! What kind of man do you take me for?"  
  
"One that sexts me twenty times an hour," Derek mumbled under his breath, just seconds before the bell rang.  
  
In walked the old Physics teacher, Mr. Graham, pushing up his glasses. He looked around to all the students, and went over to his desk. He normally didn’t seem that enthused about anything, but let’s face it, he taught physics, so he didn’t have much to live for. Stiles leaned back on his chair, and was grabbing onto the black desks, looking around at the class to see who all was in it. No new students, apparently, which was only to be expected. He turned to mutter something about it to Derek when the noise in the class abruptly paused, and they peeked over in the direction everyone was looking.  
  
“That’s new,” Stiles muttered, appreciatively eying the woman walking in. Seriously, she was hot - honey-colored hair, soft-looking skin, a weirdly sexy almost MILF-esque way about her. Stiles grinned over at Derek. “I’d use my superpowers to deduce how many dudes are sprouting awkward boners right now, but it might actually traumatize me.”  
  
Derek rolled his eyes at that. The teacher was introducing her. "This year, we will have a TA with us. This is Ms Kate Argent." The blond gave a smile to the class. Derek felt his stomach tighten at the name.  
  
He looked over to Stiles, who had wide eyes. Argent? A new Argent was never a good thing. Derek felt his veins run cold as she waved to the rest of the class. He’d never heard of a Kate Argent before. All he knew was that Stiles’ father and Chris Argent, the patriarch of the Argent family that resided in Beacon Hills, and their hunter clan, had an agreement: As long as the wolves stayed out of trouble, and kept their numbers regulated to the bare minimum, the family of hunters would give them no quabble. The pact had been forged after Julia, their alpha, had been murdered by ‘unknown persons’ as the Argents attempt to offhandedly placate and apologize for what they knew was their fault. In the process, a fair number of their family had abruptly been sent away from Beacon Hills, which had never sat well with Stiles. Derek reached over and touched his wrist.  
  
“It may just be because your father turned Isaac and Boyd,” Derek said, trying to calm him down. He knew what Stiles looked like when he freaked out, and this was it. “They just want to be equal to us. Nothing to worry about.”  
  
“But why is she _here_ , here, at school, where we all are? Derek, I don’t like this, I really don’t, what are we gonna do?” Stiles was looking at him, and turned his hand to grab Derek’s tightly. Stiles almost never panicked, but when he did, there was nothing Derek could do but stand beside him - in both a physical and metaphorical sense. Derek was just relieved that if the unwarranted arrival of an Argent had to crop up in their lives, Derek was there to be with Stiles through it.  
  
“She hasn’t even looked over here yet. Just calm down, maybe she just wants to be a teacher and she came here to be with her family?” Derek whispered, growing quiet when the teacher glared at them.  
  
But of course Stiles didn’t care about that. “She’s an Argent, Derek - nothing they do is coincidental!”  
  
“I know,” Derek murmured, soothing Stiles’ white knuckles with his thumb. “There’s no reason to raise our hackles,” and Stiles snorted, “until we figure out exactly what’s going on. Text your dad to see if he knows she’s here.”  
  
“If he knew, he would’ve warned me,” Stiles growled. “That’s what makes this fishy. Among other things. Like her _presence_.”  
  
“Can you smell any wolfsbane on her?” Derek asked, now completely ignoring what the teacher was saying. Stiles paused and sniffed the air, and then shook his head. Derek squeezed his hand. “Alright, so she’s not a danger to you today. It’s last block - we’ll go home and talk to your dad. He might make a deal with the Argents.”  
  
Stiles nodded stiffly, his mouth set in an unfamiliar, grim line. Derek moved his chair closer and Stiles immediately leaned into him, pressing their shoulders together. By the end of the period, Kate Argent had not once sent any lingering glances or paid any special care to them or even their side of the room, which only made Stiles more tense, and the instant the bell rang, he was out of his chair and pulling Derek toward the door.  
  
Once at home, Stiles told his father everything. The sheriff didn’t let out any signs of distress, but he gave a grim nod. “I'll talk to the Argents. You kids shouldn’t have anyone watching you, it was agreed that keeping the young in line was to be my job, not theirs. I’m sure this'll all be cleared up soon.”  
  
“Dad,” Stiles growled, his fingers bunching the material of Derek’s shirt at the small of his back. “Who is she?”  
  
“Chris Argent’s sister.”  
  
“She was banished for a _reason_ , Dad -”  
  
“They were not _banished_ ,” the sheriff corrected tersely. He looked uncomfortable, to say the least. “They were... relocated without permission to return.”  
  
“Sounds like banished to me. And now she’s back. Dad, you have to tell me the truth. Did she kill-”  
  
“Stop, Stiles. Just stop it.” John clenched his jaw and went back to doing the dishes. “I will not have this conversation with you. I’m going to talk to the Argents, but until then you shouldn’t worry about it. They don’t want a war as much as we don’t.”  
  
“Yeah right.” The beta was starting to make noises that sounded suspiciously like quiet snarls, so Derek pulled him back, shoving his hand up Stiles’ shirt and leading him out of the room with his palm pressed to Stiles’ back.  
  
“Come on, Stiles,” he ordered softly, even though Stiles looked like he wanted to fight. Derek had seen John Stilinski go full alpha on his son before, and it wasn’t really something he’d want a repeat performance of.  
  
Once in his room, Stiles sat on his desk chair, and he was now visibly shaking. He looked up at Derek, who was getting worried. “What if... what if she was the one who killed my mom?” he asked in a small, broken voice. Derek settled on the bed with crossed legs and pulled Stiles’ rolling chair over until his knees hit the edge of the bed. Grabbing Stiles’ trembling hands, he brought them both up to his mouth and left them there to rest.  
  
“If she did,” Derek answered quietly, “then we’ll find out, and we’ll catch her, and make her regret doing something as audacious and stupid as coming back.”  
  
Stiles let out a shaky breath, and leaned forward, pressing his face into Derek’s neck. “Yeah, okay. If she did it, she’ll live to regret it,” he said, breathing Derek’s scent in deeply. Derek ran his fingers through Stiles’ short hair, knowing how it soothed him.  
  
“D’you want me to call the others over?” he asked after a moment. Years spent in the company of werewolves had taught him that they thrived on pack, and that alone, they became nervous, anxious, unwhole. But Stiles shook his head and climbed into Derek’s lap to be held, even though they were very nearly the same size.  
  
“No. Just you for now. Okay?” Derek wasn’t surprised. No matter how many sources stated the contrary, or how every other wolf Derek knew acted, Stiles was very private with his vulnerability for a beta in that nobody was allowed to see it. Nobody but Derek. He often wondered if that was harmful to the pack, the way Stiles had so much difficulty opening himself up for them completely, but he knew Stiles had his reasons. So he nodded and sat, silently stroking Stiles’ neck as the beta plotted and planned just barely loud enough for Derek to hear.

* * *

_12_

Stiles opened the door to the warm summer air and Scott, breaking out in a wide grin. “Scott! Long time no see! How've you been?”  
  
“Good. Haven’t seen you in months, you finally got back from Washington!” Scott said, giving him a hug. Then behind him he saw Derek, and looked him up and down. Scott’s eyes narrowed. He wanted to ask the question that had been digging at the back of his mind for ages - why Derek? Why did Derek seem to spend almost as much time at Stiles’ house as Stiles did? Why was Derek always following Stiles like some creepy, gangly shadow? Why had Stiles and his dad insisted Derek come with them on their super special bonding trip to Washington to get away from the confines of their home and not Scott? But he didn’t, because Stiles had already been through enough that year, and after a firm talking to by his mother, Scott grudgingly had to admit that Stiles was allowed to cope with his loss in whatever way he chose, with _whom_ ever he chose.  
  
Once inside, Stiles walked into the kitchen. “We were just about to bake cookies, want to join?” He already had a bunch of ingredients out for them, and was just getting the chocolate chips out of the cupboard.  
  
Derek grabbed the brown sugar and put it on the table, knowing the routine for cookies already. Scott looked over the cookbook, not really wanting to watch them. “So, you guys all unpacked now? I can’t believe you were away for seven months!”  
  
Stiles exchanged a look with Derek, glanced over his shoulder, and shot Scott a grin. “It was awesome! We were super deep in the woods and I thought I was gonna die that long without video games, and I almost did, at first, but weirdly enough, it turned out to be pretty cool. Right?” He nudged Derek with his elbow, and Derek grunted in response, stretching up to the top shelf of a nearby cupboard for walnuts. He was still smaller than they were, Scott noticed, but Stiles had definitely sprouted a couple of inches in his absence.  
  
“That’s cool. It was pretty boring here. Except Jackson sprained his arm, which was pretty cool,” Scott said, and leaned forward against the kitchen table.

“Yeah? He deserves it. Jackson's a jerk. It's karma, right?” He nudged Derek’s side again, like even that simple statement was some sort of inside joke they shared, and it just soured Scott’s mood all the more. Derek glanced over at him, and Scott stared right back, hoping that Derek could feel his silent animosity.  
  
Apparently, he could.  
  
Ducking his head down, Derek mumbled something to Stiles before he left the room, just... left. Stiles sighed but otherwise seemed unperturbed, grabbing some milk from the fridge. “C’mon, dude, what’re you waiting for? These cookies aren’t gonna bake themselves!”  
  
They talked like they used to as they made the dough, and Scott turned the oven on. Normally they weren’t allowed to use the oven when they were home alone, but apparently the sheriff had been giving him a lot more freedom with that kind of stuff. Another part of his friend's life that Scott had missed.  
  
“Hey, so what’s with Derek? It’s almost like he’s living here now.”  
  
Stiles grinned. “I know. It’s pretty awesome.” Scott blinked. “Derek’s seriously been the best. He’s really... he’s just cool.”  
  
“Must be,” Scott mumbled. “You took him with you on your family trip.”  
  
“I had to.”  
  
“Dude.” Scott gaped at him. “Your dad made you?” And Stiles looked at him for a short moment before bursting into laughter.  
  
“No, dummy - I had to because I needed him there. With me. You know?”  
  
“Not really... But, I guess what whatever makes you feel better.” Scott couldn’t be angry and jealous if something helped Stiles cope with what had happened before. He seemed to be happy enough right now, so at least that was good.  
  
Stiles looked to his friend and shrugged as he was getting out the cookie tray. “Sorry I didn’t take you with me. But I don’t think your mom would have let you go to Washington for seven months.”  
  
“Derek’s, too,” Scott said. He was a little more than perplexed that anyone their age was allowed to leave school for so long. They were only twelve, after all - hardly grown up enough to just leave school like that. “Did you guys adopt him or something?”  
  
“No, but his parents trust my dad a lot, and they have so many kids that they don’t mind having one less to take care of, if we were willing to take him.” Stiles grinned, obviously excited about it. “It was great though. I don’t think I could have done it without him.”  
  
“Done what?”  
  
Stiles went quiet for a minute before he shrugged. “Everything, I guess. I dunno. Here, mix this sugar and butter and stop asking me questions!” He shoved the bowl in front of his friend and grabbed the eggs.  
  
“You always made the best cookies. I remember helping you and... Well, helping you,” Scott ended awkwardly, not wanting to bring up the mom thing. Which he kind of failed at. If Stiles caught his near slip-up, only the split second pause in his step indicated it.  
  
“Yeah,” he agreed, flashing Scott a grin and pulling open the bag of chocolate chips. “I’m totally the best. And guess what? In Washington we learned how to make rabbit stew - after catching and skinning the rabbit first!”  
  
Scott made a face at that, having always loved animals. “Why would you want to eat a rabbit? Just eat chicken like normal people.” Once the sugar and butter were mixed, Stiles added the eggs, and then the flour. Scott was already stealing a few bits of dough. He'd always been a dough hog, forever taking a bunch before they were even baked. Stiles smacked his hand, and didn’t even look sorry when Scott gave him a startled stare.  
  
“There won’t be enough left to make cookies!” he chastised, and Scott swallowed thickly. Did Stiles even realize he was acting so much like his mother? He didn’t seem to, snatching the bowl away and folding in the chocolate chips before spooning the dough out onto a greased pan.  
  
He put it in the oven and went back to the table beside Scott. “Alright, those should be done in like ten minutes. So you have to tell me everything that has been going on at school. How is my love, Lydia?”  
  
Scott filled him in on all he’d missed while Stiles and Derek had been homeschooled by Stiles’ aunt in the Washington wilderness, about how one kid Stiles only vaguely remembered moved away, about how Danny - the boy from Hawaii - was awarded for highest grades at the end of the year, about how they had missed out on the coolest Science teacher on the planet, and then before they knew it, the timer had gone off for the oven.  
  
Stiles grabbed an oven mit, and when he opened the door, the room filled with the smell of cookies. It smelled wonderful, warm and reminded them of home. And of when Stiles’ mom would make the cookies, her laughter and presence filling the entire room. Stiles froze, hand already extended to grab them. “Dude?” Scott tried when Stiles hadn’t moved in over twenty seconds. His friend’s face was hidden from view, but his arms jerked and his back heaved a couple times and he stood up straight, stumbling back and clutching at his chest. Stiles’ whole body began one slow convulsion after the next, and it looked like he was choking, like he couldn’t _breathe_ , but Scott couldn’t see what was wrong, and he just looked so scared -  
  
“A-are you choking? What’s wrong, dude, you look-”  
  
“D-Derek!” Stiles croaked, grabbing onto the counter for support.  
  
There was a crash as Derek came running into the room, looking worried. “Did you burn yourself?!” he demanded, rushing over to him and putting a hand on his back.  
  
Stiles couldn’t breath, and he could feel his fangs growing already. Without looking over at Scott, he quickly ran to the stairs, dissappearing from view. Derek went after him, leaving Scott standing awkwardly at the table.  
  
A moment later, when he'd gotten a hold of himself, Scott quickly ambled from the room and found them both leaning heavily against each other behind the couch. Although Derek was smaller than they were, he didn't look it when he curled around Stiles like a blanket of protection. Scott couldn't see Stiles' hands or his face, both hidden by Derek's body, and Scott felt weird watching them like this. Like it was something he shouldn't see. "S...Stiles?"  
  
It was Derek who answered. "He's fine. Could you take the cookies out before they burn?"  
  
Scott sighed and looked away from them. He turned around and went back to the kitchen. Stiles was actually still wearing the oven mitt, so he grabbed a dish cloth to get it out.  
  
The cookies were a little too dark around the edges, and when Scott scraped them off the pan they made crunching noises, but he couldn't find it in himself to be too disappointed about it. It felt too weird to just put more dough on the pan and keep going when his friend was... going through whatever it was in the other room, but he didn't really know what else to do. And when the new batch was in the oven, Scott awkwardly stepped back into the living room. He grimaced to find them in the exact same spot, though Stiles wasn't shaking so hard it looked like he was about to fall apart anymore.  
  
"Water?" Derek said, glancing briefly up at Scott. Stiles shifted, his face pressing into Derek's neck, shielded from Scott's eyes.  
  
Scott was torn between not wanting to do what Derek said and wanting to do something to make Stiles feel better. Eventually he chose the latter. When he brought the glass to them, he put a hand on Stiles' shoulder. "Hey, are you alright?"  
  
Derek took the glass from his hand and nudged Stiles until he looked up, pale and out of it. "Yeah," he croaked, taking the water from Derek and tilting it into his mouth. He drank until the glass was half empty. "Thanks. 'M fine now."  
  
“The cookies are ready if you want some. And I put in the second batch.” Scott sat down on the couch and peered over the back at them, not wanting to leave. “What happened? It looked like you got sick or something?”  
  
When Stiles could only look at him with his mouth half open, unsure of what to say, Derek gently pet his hand, like Stiles was a cat or something. “Panic attack,” Derek answered, putting the glass back up to Stiles’ mouth until he drank. “Happens sometimes.”  
  
“Seriously? It never happened before.” Because if it had happened before, he definitely would have known about it, being Stiles' best friend and all. At least, he used to be his best friend. Now he wasn't so sure. Derek just shrugged and held Stiles tighter, and Stiles just sat there, sipping from the glass of water. It was kind of creepy, seeing him so dazed and zoned out. “Should we call your dad, dude?”  
  
“No,” Stiles said immediately, for the first time giving a direct response by himself. His voice was cracked, broken. “We just got back. I don’t... he shouldn’t have to worry about me all the time. He doesn’t need to know.”  
  
“But if you need help-”  
  
“I don’t need help!” Stiles practically yelled, but curled closer to Derek. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine just... the cookies are about to burn.”  
  
Scott stared at him for a moment in befuddlement before springing from the couch and into the kitchen to take the perfectly baked cookies from the oven. It was all too weird, and Scott didn’t understand. Stiles had gotten a weird panic thing when he’d opened the oven to smell the same cookies his mom used to make, but that didn’t make sense to him. Wouldn’t smelling his mom’s cookies make Stiles feel better and not make him curl up in a shivery ball on the living room floor? And why did he snap at Scott, who only wanted to help, while he let Derek speak for him and stroke him like a pet and hold him like a baby?  
  
Either way, he didn’t really want to hang out with his friend when Derek was here. Scott stole one of the cooled cookies and took the hot ones off the pan, and then went back to the living room. “Hey Stiles, I’m gonna head out, okay? I’ll see you at school next week.” And seriously, they _still_ hadn’t moved? If Stiles didn’t look so terrible, Scott probably would have had to mock him for it. They were too ridiculous to function.  
  
“Sorry, man,” Stiles said, and geez, he sounded so weak that Scott nearly had to go back just to make sure Derek wasn’t, like, suffocating him or something. “Take as many cookies as you want.”  
  
“I definitely will. I hope you... feel better.” He waved and got out of there as quick as possible. Whatever was with those two, he didn’t really want to be a part of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Erica had always insisted that, if Derek got to be pack and human, so did she (and personally, Stiles found it only fair, what with his father turning both of her subsequent boyfriends into werewolves and all), which was why they waited patiently for Boyd to bring her back from the doctor before they started the pack meeting.  
  
They were all sitting in the Stilinski living room, which got pretty crowded when the whole pack was there. Jacobe took up the most room, the imposing figure of one of John’s deputies and a beta they had taken in from his home pack in San Diego while he completed his exams in Beacon Hills. Stiles surveyed everyone else, cross-legged on his father’s old recliner, while Derek sat on the arm beside him, arms folded comfortably over his broad chest. How great it’d be if it were one of those pack bonding meetings with chips and Chinese takeout and a million plastic cups strewn around the room, where Stiles was free to cuddle with Derek as much as he liked, content in the blanket of pack chaos. Stiles would have given his right arm for it to be just another night with the pack. But the look of unease on their alpha’s face made it quite clear that that was not the case.  
  
When everyone had arrived and found their seats, John looked to each of them to make sure they were all listening. “So, as you all know, the Argents have brought in another one of their family. I’ve talked to them, and they've said that it was not meant as a threat to our pack.”  
  
Stiles huffed and crossed his arms. Derek put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I thought they were all supposed to leave again after the funeral,” Isaac piped up as Derek’s hand slid up to the back of Stiles’ neck. The sheriff grimaced with one little glance at his son.  
  
“They were.”  
  
“Oh, so what, they just thought it was okay to hide that little tidbit of information until we all get back to school?” Erica scoffed. Stiles sat up straight.  
  
“Whoa whoa, wait, hold up. What funeral?” And then, weirdly enough, everyone fell silent. Stiles looked up at Derek, but the look on his face said he was just as confused as Stiles' was. “Dad?”  
  
His father gave a sigh and looked over to his son. “When you two were gone, Gerard Argent died. Chris’ father. Since this was their hometown, they had the funeral in Beacon Hills. For a week, their whole family was here.” He looked a bit awkward. “I thought it would be best to not tell you when it happened, because you would have worried. Nothing happened, son.”  
  
Stiles obviously didn’t look happy about it. “The town was filled with hunters and you didn’t tell me about it? Seriously, Dad?” Derek gently squeezed the back of his neck, and Stiles sat back with a sneer. His father looked like he wanted to both apologize and kick him for his audacity. Good. He deserved to feel conflicted.  
  
“When I spoke with Chris, he maintained that he hadn’t increased his own ranks after Boyd joined ours,” John said warily.  
  
“Which is just peachy in theory,” Stiles interjected, “until you remember that we gave them plenty of notice before each bite.” But he grew quiet when John growled at him, eyes flashing red. This must be serious for him to give such a show of dominance.  
  
John then turned from his son, regarding the rest of the pack. “Now, when I went over to their base, they said that they weren’t comfortable with the amount of teenaged wolves in school. And they say that that’s why they put an Argent as a TA. Just to keep an eye over everything, allegedly.”  
  
Erica muttered something under her breath, and both Isaac and Boyd on either side of her tilted their heads in closer, instinctively. John continued, “Which shouldn’t be a problem, because you’re all well-behaved individuals. For the most part.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb. “So we’re gonna play along. They’ve expressed some worry that I’m going to keep turning teenagers until the whole school is crawling with you, but that’s not going to happen -” Erica huffed, “- so go about your business as normal. It’ll get boring real quick for her when she realizes that you’re not clawing people up left and right.”  
  
Surprisingly, it was Isaac who spoke up first. “That’s it? We’re just going to keep going to school like there’s nothing different? Like there isn’t an Argent watching everything we do?”  
  
“Now I know it’s not the best of circumstances, but we don’t want a war with the Argents. There could be innocents caught in the middle. So if anyone tries to start a fight, you will be dealing with me.”  
  
At the same time, it was clear what he left unsaid - that if there was any impropriety from the opposite side, they would be answering to him, as well. And Chris Argent damn well knew it, which just made it all the more confusing as to why he’d allowed it to happen at all. Their alliance had been so rigorously kept for nearly a decade now. What was the point of causing a commotion in the middle of peace?  
  
After that, they didn’t talk about it, just brought in some pizza and all ate together. But it wasn’t like normal - there was an uneasy silence, all worrying about what would happen should the war start up again. Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand and didn’t let go, even though it made it more difficult to eat the pizza. It soothed them both.  
  
By the time all the food was finished, Erica and Isaac had nodded off together against Boyd and the sheriff’s deputy bade his goodbye and left for home. Derek had retreated upstairs to shower and get ready for bed, and Stiles was waiting his turn when John pushed aside the empty pizza boxes on the coffee table and sat there, facing Stiles. “Do we need to talk, kiddo?” Stiles made a face.  
  
“I don’t know. It’s just... scary, you know? Having one of them being that close. What if she tries to kill us?”  
  
John pat him on the shoulder, a grim look on his face. “Don't be theatrical. Just... keep an eye out. Make sure you have control of yourself. Watch out for Isaac and Boyd, as well.”  
  
“Erica can take care of herself, huh?”  
  
“We’ve got Erica,” Boyd mumbled from the couch, threading his fingers through her hair while she slept. Stiles and John grinned.  
  
“I still think she’s doing all the geeks in the world justice by having two werewolf boyfriends,” Stiles snickered, and then John rolled his eyes, reaching over to scrub a hand over Stiles’ head before pushing himself up to a stand.    
  
“I don’t think the Argents would attack a human. And your pack’s always here for you, Stiles,” he said, as if Stiles needed to be told. “It’s not just you and Derek against the world. Alright?”  
  
Stiles nodded and glanced away. “Right. I know, we’re stronger in a pack. Even the humans. Thanks, Dad.” They both heard the shower shut off upstairs, so Stiles stood up. “Well, goodnight. Have a good shift.” Stiles heard his father ask if Boyd wanted help getting the pups to the guest room as he trotted up the stairs and ducked into his room for a change of clothes before sidestepping his half-naked boyfriend when Derek came in through the hallway. They didn’t exchange words, but Stiles skimmed his fingers over the damp, hot skin of Derek’s hip before he popped in for his own shower.  
  
Heaving a sigh of relief to find Derek already under the covers by the time he got back, Stiles switched the lights off and climbed into bed beside him. Stiles sighed, burying his nose into Derek’s scent. “I want you to fuck me.”  
  
Derek huffed out a laugh at that, putting his hand under Stiles’ shirt. “Yeah?” he muttered, mouthing softly at Stiles’ jaw. “While the house is full of people who can hear us even when we’re quiet?”  
  
“They already know we’re fucking,” Stiles sighed, tilting his head back so Derek would move his attentions to his neck. “I need it, Derek.”  
  
“Okay,” he answered, kissing Stiles’ chin. Derek needed to shave soon or Stiles would be covered in stubble burn by the end of the week. “Just makin’ sure.” He pushed up the light shirt Stiles was wearing, moving his hand over his skin. “Get the lube.”  
  
Stiles scrambled for his drawer, but paused before moving back when Derek started kissing up his hip. “You should get undressed too.” Even though he was only wearing boxers. Derek complied without a word and let them fall off his side of the bed before hauling Stiles’ body down to kiss him. He took the bottle when Stiles pressed it into his hand, but he didn’t move away, licking into Stiles’ mouth and over his teeth. Stiles sank them gently into Derek’s tongue before he sucked it in further, palming Derek’s dick until it was stiff and leaking against his fingers.  
  
He pressed back against Derek, against his hand. And then there was a slick finger pushing into him. Stiles let out a low moan, but then cut off, because even if the whole household knew what they were doing, he didn’t need to advertize it. Derek eased him open with his fingers, fucking him slowly with the lubed-up digits until Stiles butted his forehead against Derek’s chin and panted, “Do it, c’mon, need it now.” So Derek slipped his fingers out and pushed them into Stiles’ hip as he rolled the wolf over onto his stomach and stretched out to lie over his back.  
  
Derek fucked him into the mattress, and Stiles idly thought that if they had one of those memory foam beds, his pelvis would have sunken in deep enough to touch the box spring mattress below. He shoved his face in Derek’s pillow to smother some of the noises he just couldn’t hold back as Derek’s movements pressed Stiles’ aching dick into the sheets.  
  
Stiles reached back, splaying a hand over Derek’s back, feeling his muscles move under the skin. He could hear the wet sounds they were making, and it actually made him feel better, because this was normal, this is what they always did. He squeezed his muscles just to hear Derek’s breath stutter. Hot breath, just minty enough to make Stiles smile, fanned over his neck as Derek ducked his head there. A bite followed, and it was just enough to make Stiles keen into the pillow and shove his hips back, only to have them be pinned down to the bed as Derek roughly plowed into him again and again. It was perfect, just what Stiles needed, and to feel himself near to coming was both a relief and a pity.  
  
He bit down into the pillow as his cock started spurting over the bed, and tried to catch at least some of it in his hand. Derek slowed down as he got close as well, giving long smooth thrusts all the way down to the root. Stiles was amazed to realize that he seemed to have gotten bigger in that respect as well, and how had he not realized that sooner? Derek had grown in every imaginable way, and Stiles always noticed far too late. His arms were thicker, his shoulders were wider, and hell, it took about half a year for him to even notice that Derek had finally sprouted a couple inches on him after a decade of height superiority. Stiles had just taken his dick as it was, quite literally, and only now did he really notice how _thick_ he had become, long and cut and perfect and now he was coming, panting against Stiles’ ear and giving a few more short shoves with his cock before he fell, completely boneless, on top of Stiles.  
  
Derek didn’t even pull out, just laid there, being a comfortable weight on top of Stiles, for what felt like a long, long time. “Are you better now?” Which was really a strange thing to ask, considering the fucking just minutes before, but that was just Derek.  
  
“Yeah, thanks. It was awesome,” Stiles said with a little smile, and flexed his hips just to feel Derek’s soft cock rub inside him. Then his boyfriend pulled out, laying beside him. Stiles grunted and scooted with Derek further onto Derek’s side to avoid the wet patch until morning, and groaned at the feel of gummy come in his palm.  
  
“‘S wrong?” Derek asked, petting down Stiles’ back.  
  
“Conflicted,” Stiles sighed back. “I need to wash my hands ‘cause this is nasty as hell, but I don’t wanna get up.”  
  
“What a dilemma,” the human hummed, and Stiles just knew he’d closed his eyes.  
  
“A good boyfriend would fetch me a moist towlette.”  
  
Derek made a little noise of amusement. “I’m a shitty boyfriend, as we both know.”  
  
Stiles huffed and reached down to grab whatever he found first, which happened to be Derek’s boxers. He wiped his hand off, smirking over at him. “There, problem solved.”  
  
“If you didn’t do the laundry, I would be really upset with you doing that,” Derek said, and pulled him close to his chest when Stiles laid down. Of course, then Derek waited until Stiles was nearing the precipice of half-sleep, floating comfortably in his own mind with Derek’s skin and scent all around him, to ask, “Do we need to talk about why that just happened?”  
  
“You ‘n’ Dad both, swear t’ God,” Stiles huffed against Derek’s chest. “M’be I just wanted my hot boyfriend to fuck me.”  
  
“Alright, you don’t want to talk about it, I get the picture.”  
  
Stiles’ fingers curled and uncurled slowly over Derek’s waist. “S’metimes I just need it. Need you. To. Y’know. Bring me back. Get inside me and push everything else out.”  
  
Derek couldn’t help the smirk at that, and Stiles hit him on the chest. “You know what I mean. It’s just... normal, and sometimes I need something normal in my life. And being with you is normal.”  
  
“Keep calling me normal and I’m gonna get a complex.” Stiles laughed quietly, palming up Derek’s massive biceps.  
  
“Okay, _comfortable_ , you semantics freak. You’re as abnormal as they come. Abnormally attractive. I take much comfort in how insanely gorgeous you are in just the general everywhere area.”  
  
“Time for you to go to sleep now.”  
  
“Oh no, you brought this up, I totally get to write sonnets about the veins in your forearms and the fucking prism of colors in your eyes and your adorable teeth. Dammit, Derek, how do you even live with yourself.”  
  
Derek threw a pillow at Stiles’ face, and they both started laughing at it. “Alright, we have another day at school tomorrow. We had both better be alert for it.” Derek said, which sobered them both. “Well, at least we don’t have Physics.”  
  
“And a free period together, which -”  
  
“- We’ll be using to nap away our exhaustion if we don’t fall asleep now.”  
  
“Alright, alright, shutting up.” Stiles yawned and shifted, making himself comfortable once more in Derek’s hold. “Goodnight, Der-bear.”  
  
Derek grumbled incoherently to himself and Stiles grinned, forgetting for a brief moment that shit was probably about to go down and there might not be anything he could do to stop it.

 

  
  
For almost two weeks, they all went to school, and it was pretty much normal. Kate sat in their class, occasionally giving a lecture. She wasn’t sending off any creepy killer vibes at all. Well, most of the time, at least. There was the time she thought one of the boys was looking through her purse, and that was just scary. And to be honest, if Stiles didn’t seethe with anger every time he saw her face or caught a whiff of her scent, it might have even become boring. But there it was every time he entered the classroom - that faint, but very present lingering scent of wolfsbane that put him on high alert the moment he caught it.  
  
Stiles was just fortunate to have Derek there with him; he didn’t know what he would do if he couldn’t reach out every time he remembered his mother’s death, and the subsequent reek of war that was only placated when Kate and half of her damn family had fled town, and touch the only person who could make him feel sane.  
  
“I don’t like her. Scott told me that she said he had puppy brown eyes. Who would say that? It’s creepy,” Stiles said as they walked through the hall, toward the Physics room. He had to get his complaining in now before they were in the same room as her.  
  
Derek hummed his agreement, holding onto Stiles’ hand. “But the wolfsbane that you smell isn’t as strong as if she had some on her, right? So she’s not threatening you, so your father won’t even hear it if you talk to him.”  
  
“Don’t remind me,” Stiles grumbled. His fingers tried to clench themselves into fists, but Derek just squeezed back, and Stiles’ dark mood lightened up, just the slightest bit. “The minute I smell it on her, though...”  
  
The period went on as it normally did, with Kate Argent sitting at her own desk by the window while their teacher scrawled equations on the board and Stiles tried not to succumb to the deadly combination of roiling hatred and mind-numbing boredom. At the end of the class, Kate was picking up a bunch of papers from the kids' desks as they all filed out. When Derek walked past her, she stood up. “Derek? Would you mind giving me a hand? After this I need to put these all in alphabetical order,” she said with a smile that looked nice, just like a normal person’s smile, except that it hid the cold dead insides of a possible murderer.  
  
Stiles stopped on his way to the door, eyes going wide. He shook his head vigorously behind her, even adding in some hand motions.  
  
“Sorry,” he said, turning his eyes back to Kate’s. Thanks to the heels, she was very nearly his height. “I really have to get home.”  
  
“It’ll only take a couple of minutes,” she said, tilting her head to the side. If it were Isaac, Derek definitely would have caved. As it were, she was not Isaac, but rather a suspect in the murder of his boyfriend’s mother, so that was definitely not happening.  
  
“Really, very sorry,” he said, sidestepping her to reach Stiles at the door.  
  
Kate reached out and actually ran a hand down his arm. Derek froze, looking at Stiles so that he wouldn’t do anything rash. “Well, that’s too bad. I would have appreciated the help. Especially from you.”  
  
“Well... sorry,” Derek said again, and then got the hell out of there, taking Stiles by the hand on his way out. Derek veered to the right toward the school parking lot, but Stiles yanked him to the left, and Derek was helpless to follow. “Stiles, come on, we’re going home.”  
  
“I’m _not_ ,” Stiles snarled, pushing through the swarm of students heading in the opposite direction, “going to spend _any_ amount of time in my jeep with you while you carry her scent.” And he pushed Derek through the nearest bathroom door, bullying him toward the sink.  
  
“Stiles, _Stiles_ , calm down!” But nothing could stop Stiles from pressing him against the sink and getting a hand full of soap. He jerked Derek’s arm into the sink and ran the soap furiously over his skin, making it into a lather.  
  
Derek let him wash his arm off, and didn’t even complain when Stiles wiped it with a paper towel until the skin was red. But he did say something when Stiles then started licking over where she had touched. “Stiles, it’s alright, just stop.” But Stiles’ fangs made their entrance when Derek tried to push him away, which wasn’t okay. He pressed one hand to Stiles’ chest and frowned into his eyes, which were dangerously close to blue. “Stiles. Stiles, we’re still in school. “You’ve washed her away. You can smell, if you need to.” The low, smooth growl that had started up in Stiles’ throat softened to silence when he sniffed the air around Derek’s arm. “Let’s go home. You can scent me as much as you like there, okay? In the bed, not the school bathroom.”  
  
He leaned forward, pressing his face to Derek’s neck. His voice was quietly strained, desperate. “Derek, don’t let her touch you again. I don’t like her touching you.”  
  
“Yeah, I got that,” Derek said, and pulled Stiles away. “Let’s grab our bags and go home, alright? We can just stay in your room all night. We can order pizza okay and we won’t have to talk to anyone else all night long.”  
  
Stiles nodded silently (and it was never a good sign when Stiles didn’t speak), and Derek made sure their fingers were notched tightly together before he pulled him into the almost empty hallway.  
  
The ride home was silent, too, but Derek didn’t push, just traced his thumb over the bumps of Stiles’ knuckles over and over again until they were outside his house. Inside, the first thing Stiles said was a demand, and it was for Derek to get into the shower. He insisted he could still smell Kate on him, and getting that in their bed was not acceptable, not even close, and just in case somehow he’d got some too, Stiles stepped under the hot spray with him and scrubbed them both until they were pink.  
  
And after he was certain he had gotten Kate off of Derek, Stiles got busy making sure he was all over him. He probably licked every inch of his skin, marked most of it with hickeys, and at some place even rubbed his crotch over his skin. Derek was sure that to any other werewolf, he would smell completely owned. The thought probably shouldn't have been so okay with him.  
  
When the bell rang and he pulled on some clothes to go and get the pizza, he grimaced at his arm, which had four hickeys on it and one bruising bite mark. He grabbed his hoodie to cover it up, not to mention the marks on his neck.  
  
It was fruitless, though, as the guy at the door handing him the boxes gave him an appraising look that made it clear he looked about as wrecked as he felt. It was almost comical, in that  Stiles almost looked more sated and content than he did after an orgasm. It was a thought that Derek thought he probably shouldn't delve into still buzzing from the high that Stiles' mouth all over his body tended to induce.  
  
"We won't need a repeat performance," he said when Stiles waltzed into the room in his boxers and a t-shirt. "I made sure the pizza guy didn't touch me."  
  
"Ha ha," Stiles snarked back, pulling a box over to himself and rolling up three slices.  
  
But when he sat down, Stiles pulled his chair to right beside Derek's, so that their shoulders were touching. Derek decided to only eat with one hand and used his other to place on his boyfriend's knee. It made them both feel better.  
  
"She was really aggressive," Stiles finally muttered after they'd destroyed all but one half of the second pizza, licking his thumb. Derek allowed himself one pot-and-kettle thought before he nodded. "She's gotta be up to something. She was just biding her time before, and now she's going in for the kill, and I'd put money on the suspicion that this is a prelude to her trying to use you to get to, to my _dad_ , and -"  
  
"If that's the case," Derek interjected, "we also need to entertain the possibility that she did that to rile you up. We're not exactly subtle, Stiles, and she probably knows that the best way to egg you on is -"  
  
"Oh my God, you think she tried to get me to wolf out in the middle of the fucking school?"  
  
"It worked," Derek reminded him, and Stiles' jaw ticked.  
  
Stiles looked away, but he was leaning even closer to Derek. "If that was her plan, then she'll try something again." He fell silent for the next thirty seconds. When he spoke again, Stiles looked over at him. "You know, the last year of school is kinda stupid, we only need eleven years. How about we drop out and go work at Walmart?"  
  
Derek shook his head at that. "Blue isn't my color. And we can't run away from this, Stiles. I'll just make sure that there are always people around. If she tries anything, I'll say that she touched me inappropriately."  
  
Watching him for a short moment, Stiles mulled it over. Derek could actually see Stiles' mood sink as the hope in his eyes dimmed. "Derek, no one would believe you. She's the hot young TA, and you're a super sexy, hormonally charged teenager, and it - it wouldn't matter. She could turn it on you in an instant. And the last thing we need is for you to be accused of lying and fucking the teacher -"  
  
"Stiles," Derek shushed, carding his fingers through Stiles' hair. "It's alright. But we do need to discuss the likelihood that she'll touch me again. You can't freak out like you did today. We can't play into her hands like that."  
  
He bit his lip, looking distressed. “If she touches you again...”  
  
“If she touches me again, we’ll come home and you can wash me off again, but not in school. She can’t see us react to it. If she knows how much it bothers you, she’ll do it again and again to try and get you to do something.” Derek put his hand on Stiles’ thigh, forcing him to meet Derek's eyes. “If you wolf out at school and she sees you, and if you actually try to attack her, that will be all she will need to get permission to hunt you. They could say that teenage werewolves are too dangerous to have in school or something. You have to control it, Stiles.” Dark, anxious brown eyes looked wetly back into his and Derek moved his hand under Stiles’ shirt at the small of his back. “I can try to transfer out of the class.”  
  
“No,” Stiles said, his voice clipped. “I’ll go fucking insane if I have to spend ninety minutes in a room with her without you. And if we both try to get out, who knows where we’ll be relocated? Come on, Derek, let’s just pack up and go live in the woods. New Hampshire is beautiful in the fall.”  
  
“You would do horribly living in the woods. There aren’t any video games. And for a werewolf, you are surprisingly unadapted to the wild.” Derek smirked, running his hand along his boyfriend’s leg.  
  
Stiles glared and crossed his arms. “You just don’t understand my unique relationship with the wild.”  
  
“We spent four days camping in the Rockies just for you to prove it was possible to ‘live off the land’ and ‘get back to your wolfy roots’,” Derek said, bringing up his free hand for those sassy airquotes, “and by the fourth day, you had snuck into the nearby village before I’d woken up to buy yourself magazines and a skinny latte.”  
  
“I think the point you’re missing here is that I was a true man of the wild for _four whole days_ , Derek, you can’t scoff at that.”  
  
He chuckled a bit and grabbed the plates, bringing them to the sink. “Whatever. I’m sure you would be a true mountain man if we had to be. Living in a log cabin, cutting our own wood, catching fish by hand. Using outhouses and keeping bears away with the dog.” He turned around and looked at Stiles up and down. “Back to your room? I think there was a patch of skin you didn’t lick.”  
  
“Impossible. I checked.” Stiles stood and sauntered over to him, taking his time to thoroughly wash his hands in the sink before wiping them on Derek’s shirt and snaking his arms around his broad shoulders. “Sounded like you’d entertained that fantasy before, huh? It was pretty thorough. You even gave us a dog.” He tilted his head up just enough to press a little kiss to the corner of Derek’s mouth. “You probably named it, too. Something elegant. Romulus, maybe.”  
  
“The irony of naming a werewolf’s dog Romulus isn’t lost on me,” Derek replied, spreading his legs a little wider and leaning back against the counter so Stiles could step between them. “I was thinking Gertrude.”  
  
“Is she a dog we adopted from some old woman?”  
  
“Why are you insulting the elegant name I gave our imaginary dog?”  
  
“Because if you think Gertrude is an elegant name for anything, then you are definitely not naming our kids. You would give them old people names, like Elsie and Marcel.” Stiles scoffed, and then backed up, because Derek had said something about bedroom and that sounded pretty great since they'd demolished two pizzas and had the entire rest of the evening ahead of them.  
  
“So you tease me about giving us a dog in my rich fantasy life, but you’ve already given us two children?”  
  
“We do our damndest to procreate, despite the impossibility,” Stiles sniffed as he dragged Derek out of the kitchen and toward the stairs. “So why shouldn’t I imagine us with kids? You’d be the best dad ever. And the hottest. We don’t want your genes to go to waste, so I’m thinking we get a surrogate. Or one of us should become super rich so we can somehow get both our genes spliced or something in a test tube and somehow, bam: extraordinary Halinski science baby. Or we can get Deaton to magic you up a womb and we’ll just do it like they do on the Discovery channel.”  
  
Derek rolled his eyes as they made their way upstairs. “Because they frequently have male pregnancies on the Discovery channel.”  
  
“Hey, seahorses have male pregnancies! Well, kind of, sort of not, but still. Point is, we could totally make a baby.” And once they got to his room, he pulled Derek down to the bed with him. “In fact, I definitely think we should start right now.”  
  
“We’re a bit young for kids, aren’t we?” Derek pointed out, rucking Stiles’ shirt up so he could palm his way down the wolf’s torso. Stiles wiggled and choked on his own laughter when Derek’s dastardly fingers crept up on his ticklish spots. He had only been joking (mostly) about the children, but even as Derek took advantage of his exposed belly and sensitive skin, he did entertain certain hopes for the future. He knew it would be with Derek, no matter what, so why not imagine a far off life with a pack of their own?  
  
When he finally managed to push Derek’s hands away, Stiles quickly used the leverage being sprawled in the center of the bed provided to roll Derek onto his back and climb on top of him instead, pinning his hands above his head.  
  
Derek pushed up, not going easy, but in the end stopped when he at least had his hands free and on Stiles’ hips, because in reality he was where they both needed him to be. He kneeded the soft flesh under his hands, pushing Stiles forward so they could kiss, and the room was slightly cold on his skin when it was pushed up, but his werewolf boyfriend was more than hot enough to keep him happy.

 **.**  
  
He caught Stiles’ father in the kitchen, starting one of his days off with as unhealthy a breakfast he could manage in the short amount of time Stiles was out for early morning Starbucks. And early morning Starbucks usually meant Stiles was hoping to surprise Derek in bed, which was where the sheriff probably hoped he’d be when in fact, he was actually ducking into the kitchen. John looked marginally guilty at being caught frying eggs in the pan before Derek saw the look pass over his face as he probably remembered he was the alpha, dammit, he was allowed to eat whatever he wanted, and pointed a spatula in Derek’s direction. “Do you ever go home?”  
  
It was a thing between them, like a sort of running gag that they both smirked a little at, like this wasn’t more Derek’s home than the Hale household had been for years. So, Derek offered his usual response. “If I was at home, Stiles would just be crawling through my window.” After all, he had done that for years before Derek gave him a key to the house, and even then he still crawled in the window when it was late at night and he didn’t want to wake anyone up. And ended up waking up even more people when he occasionally fell _off_ the roof.  
  
He sat down at the table, indicating that he wasn’t down here just for a drink, he actually needed to talk. John seemed to understand, since he sat down as well.  
  
“Something happened,” John said, and Derek folded his hands in his lap with a nod.  
  
“Yesterday.”  
  
“And why isn’t Stiles part of this conversation?”  
  
“He gets so worked up about it, imagining all the scenarios that might be, that he nearly drives himself into a panic attack.”  
  
John nodded, having seen exactly that happen on a few occasions. “Alright. So tell me about it.”  
  
And Derek told him what had happened with Kate, how she had touched him, obviously knowing what it would do to Stiles, how Stiles had almost wolfed out at school, and finally about the mad cleaning session afterwards. He didn’t tell him about the licking, because that was just embarrassing, and John could probably tell, anyway. “I think he’d want you to know, and he’ll probably tell you if she tries anything again, but I thought maybe you should have the bare facts before the conclusion-jumping.”  
  
The alpha rubbed his face slowly and sighed. “I don’t know how much we can do to keep him from reacting so violently to her touch, Derek. He’s claimed you as his mate, and she’s recognized by both his wolf and his humanity as the enemy. It’s almost too raw of an instinct to suppress.”  
  
“But we need to do something. I don’t mind him washing it off and covering it up, but he can’t wolf out at school. Especially around her.” He said ‘her’ like she was some kind of fungus on his shoe, because that’s what she was. That was all Derek thought of her.  
  
John seemed to be thinking it over. “Well, if you can, just don’t let her touch you. But if she does... just keep touching Stiles. Make it as public as you two are comfortable to reaffirm that you are still his mate no matter what. That could help with some of the instincts.” He stared Derek down warily. “And... I hate to say it, but you probably know better than I do how to calm him down. You might know the damn kid better than his own father.”  
  
Derek lowered his eyes. Even if John’s wolf didn’t feel challenged by him, he certainly didn’t want his boyfriend’s father to feel emotionally usurped by him. “As a wolf, you’d know best. I almost couldn’t stop him yesterday in the middle of the bathroom. Anyone could have seen.”  
  
“I’m afraid I don’t have much for you. Don't let her directly touch your skin, if you can help it. Keep away as much as you can. And be sure to always smell like Stiles, because while she may not know, it eases his mind. Even if he mostly takes care of that himself.” John scrunched his nose up, and Derek realized he hadn’t had a shower since Stile licked him. He knew he was probably red around the ears, so he pushed his chair back and stood. “Sorry I couldn’t be of any more help, kid. But thanks for letting me know. And if it happens again...”  
  
“If it happens again and Stiles hasn’t gone berserk and ripped out her throat, we’ll let you know.”  
  
They both turned at the same time to the sound of the front door swinging open and shut. There was a pause and then Stiles’ voice barking, “Why do I smell eggs?”  
  
There was a silence before John pointed to Derek and tried to hide the plate. Stiles shook his head and made a promise to talk with him about this later before he herded Derek upstairs for the proper coffee-in-bed scenario he had planned.

* * *

 _17_  
  
When Stiles found Derek huddled up with Erica on the bleachers of the lacrosse field, it amazed him that the first thought that entered his mind when he saw Erica’s long legs stretched out before her was that it had to be cold to have nothing but thin, black tights on with her cropped shorts in the crisp March air. She was usually so much more practical than that, though he wasn’t one to judge a girl on what she wanted to wear when they _clearly_ knew fashion better than he did. Even though she’d only started up this form-fitting, fashionable thing in the last couple of weeks. Stiles remembered Boyd and newly turned Isaac muttering about it to each other the past weekend over Chinese takeout in his basement.  
  
Apparently, Derek remembered too, because Stiles could see concern on his face as he approached them, and heard the soft cadence in Derek's voice that was usually reserved for newborn puppies or full moon-drunk werewolves. And when the sharp tang of salt and sadness reached his nose, he knew why. Derek was always better with crying girls than Stiles was. Probably because of all his sisters.  
  
He could hear Erica say something, but it was too mushed up with her crying that he couldn’t understand it. Stiles debated going over there, but then Erica leaned over and wrapped her arms around Derek, hiding her face in his black shirt. And really, Stiles liked Erica, she was a girl after his own heart with their mutual geekery and taste in men, but he still didn’t like her hugging Derek. So Stiles walked over with his hands in his pockets, trying to look as nonthreatening as he could. He was pretty good at it. Derek had once called him a wolf in sheep’s clothing.  
  
Derek spotted him first and lifted much-lauded eyebrows in a way that _did_ make Stiles feel sheepish when he interpreted it as Derek seeing through him quite clearly. So although it raised his wolf’s hackles to smell non-pack scent mingled with Derek’s while she wrapped herself around him, Stiles couldn’t bring himself to speak up about it. Derek lowered his head and said something to her, too low for even Stiles to hear over the wind, but he knew that Derek must have been alerting her to Stiles’ presence because she looked up and over at him, drawing away to wipe the tears off her face with her oversized sweater.  
  
“Would it be a really dumbass question to ask if you’re okay?” he said, approaching slowly.  
  
She gave that wobbly wet smile people gave when they were crying, and Stiles sat beside them. “Yeah, I’m just being emotional. It’s not even my time of the month, if you can believe that.” Stiles had never met anyone fonder of telling period jokes than Erica Reyes.  
  
“Well, who says girls can only be upset when their hormones are all crazy? Uh, do you want me to leave...?” he asked, looking both at her and at Derek, who looked to Erica as well. She shrugged and sniffed.  
  
“I can see why you keep him around,” she said, her voice still thick and raw as she patted Derek’s back. “He’s very attentive.”  
  
“Very,” Stiles agreed, giving them both a look of blatant confusion. When both Derek’s eyebrows lifted and he pointedly glanced at Erica’s legs before looking back up into Stiles’ eyes, it clicked. “Is this... maybe about Boyd? Or Isaac? Or both of them? Oh geez, no...” he said as her face crumpled and she made a little noise that had Stiles flailing helplessly.  
  
When she hid her face in Derek’s shirt again, Stiles gave him a helpless look when Derek gave him a look that very clearly said _You’re a dickweed, I just spent the past twenty minutes calming her down and you had to go and say that._ Or at least that was what Stiles was going to interpret it as.  
  
She was sniffling again, and Stiles could actually smell snot, gross. “I just d-don’t know, I think they might leave me,” she managed to get out, tugging at the fabric of Derek’s shirt, which was probably going to be ruined after this. Erica was always pretty tough, in that sort of quiet way some people had when they had to deal with shit like epilepsy on a regular basis. She was strong, and she always picked herself back up, but Stiles knew that a big part of that was the fact that Boyd and Isaac made them a little band of three, so she was never alone. When his father had turned Boyd just a month ago, every time he came into their house, he smelled freshly of Erica and Isaac, like they’d only just separated outside his house, and it was the same with Isaac turned just the other week. In fact, he’d put money on the likelihood that they were looking for her now, wondering when she’d disappeared from under their watchful gaze.  
  
But obviously something had gone wrong. Just the other day, he had overheard Isaac and Boyd saying they wished they could tell her (so he liked using his superhearing to listen in on conversations across the classroom. What was the point of being able to do it if he didn’t find out if people were talking about him or not?) And now, Stiles was wishing they could tell her as well. But it was a slippery slope; right now it was only Derek and the Argents that knew about their pack. If they all started telling humans and inviting them in, it could get messy.  
  
"Is that why you've started with the... the sexy tight clothes?"  
  
She sniffed and gave him that watery grin again, flexing one long leg. "They were both so stupidly cool overnight, you know?" Well damn, it really _was_ his dad's fault. Confidence boosts were one of the funniest parts about the newly turned. Stiles could hardly think of them as 'cool' since it felt more like they were newborn pups to him, but objectively, he could understand it. "I couldn't figure out why, but, I mean... now that they've started with the, the lacrosse and the jogging and the bodybuilding, other people are looking at them, and eventually those boneheads are gonna figure it out and..." Erica shrugged pathetically. "I knew I had to up my game, 's all."  
  
Stiles gave a grin at that, trying to make her feel better. "If those guys have even half a brain, they wouldn't leave you alone. I think they should be worrying about you leaving them."  
  
"You think so?"  
  
"Definitely. And you shouldn't worry, Boyd and Isaac think you're the best. They're probably running around looking for you right now."  
  
She scoffed, but Stiles knew a hopeful look when he saw one. Derek squeezed her shoulder. "Need another minute?"  
  
"Um." Erica dabbed delicately under her eye, probably to keep from smearing her makeup. "Yeah. I'm good here, you guys go on. Thanks, Derek,"  
  
They both stood up, and Derek quickly dropped a hand to her shoulder. He was always better at dealing with emotional people. Stiles gave her a little wave as they walked away.  
  
Derek turned to him once they were far enough away. "Maybe we could talk to your father...?"  
  
"I _knew_ you wanted to tell her," Stiles gasped, giving him a little shove. "He's practically turned half the school already -"  
  
"Two people," Derek corrected.  
  
"- And we already have our human mascot: You. Maybe when the time is right, Boyd and Isaac will tell her, but it's not really our business."  
  
Derek pulled him closer, looking in his eye. “If they had permission from their Alpha to tell her, they would be more inclined to. She’s feeling left out and not knowing why.”  
  
Stiles groaned and hung his head. “I’ll talk to him, alright? But if he says no, I’m not gonna push it. Okay?” He grudgingly kissed Derek. “If you weren’t my boyfriend I totally wouldn’t do so much for you.” Derek smirked and knocked Stiles’ hip with his own.  
  
“You’re not doing this for me.” And Stiles knew where he was about to take that, so he rolled his eyes.  
  
“Yeah yeah.”  
  
“You’re doing it for Erica,” Derek continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted.  
  
“Uhuh. Because I’m altruistic like one of those superheroes who save kittens from trees and give the credit to firemen.”  
  
“And all the humility in the world.”  
  
Stiles rolled his eyes at that, and leaned forward to kiss him again. “I don’t need humility when I have you,” he crooned over Derek’s jaw. His boyfriend gave a snort at that.  
  
“That doesn’t even make sense.”  
  
“It totally makes sense. You just don’t know it yet.” Stiles gave a triumphant cackle when Derek couldn’t even form a proper response and dragged him back into the school by hand.  
  
Three nights later, when Isaac and Boyd made it to his house early for a pack gathering, Stiles intercepted them in the kitchen. “Christmas has come early this year, since you two are idiots.”  
  
“Excuse me?” Boyd paused in peeling the plastic wrap off of his bowl of homemade guac while Isaac looked back and forth between them. Stiles grinned.  
  
“You heard me. And you’re welcome for improving your life just an ounce more. Tonight, we’re gonna convince my dad to let you two spill your furry secret to our favorite bombshell blonde. You’re welcome.”  
  
There was a moment of confusion, but it didn’t take long to click in. Isaac looked happy, a small grin coming to his face, but as always, Boyd’s face was a little more difficult to read. Isaac was first to say anything. “You think he’ll say yes? It would be great if we could tell Erica!”  
  
Boyd shook his head, stepping back. “No. You want us to tell her we're werewolves now? What if she’s afraid?”  
  
“Dude. Seriously?” Stiles looked from Isaac’s face to Boyd’s twice. “Erica? I don’t even know her half as well as you two do, but let’s be practical here. Girl’s gonna geekgasm all over the place when she finds out her boytoys are creatures of the night.” He caught sight of Isaac’s flushed neck and smirked. “Or we could go the more emotional route and talk about how much she loves you guys and will accept you no matter how out of control your sideburns become on the full moon.”  
  
Isaac looked over to Boyd, putting a hand on his arm. “It’ll be fine, she’ll be happy. You shouldn’t worry.”  
  
“And if she’s angry we’ve been lying to her?” Boyd asked, practically glaring at him. Knowing how close these guys were, Stiles backed away and decided to let them talk it out by themselves. Besides, his dad was already driving down the road.  
  
“If it helps your decision making at all,” Stiles said over his shoulder as he reached up above the fridge for the bags of chips, “she’s been crying thinking you guys are gonna leave her. Like, actual tears. Of sadness.” He shoved one wide tortilla chip in his mouth before glancing over at them and shrugging exaggeratedly. But then he gave them his best judgemental eyes, because seriously, if he ever made Derek cry, he’d probably spill any secret of his just to make it better. Which probably wasn’t relevant because he didn’t have any secrets that Derek didn’t know (dude was like a Stiles’ piggy bank for secrets. Just one more perk in having him for a boyfriend/soulmate/life partner), but he’d made his point. Internally.  
  
He heard his dad cut the engine, a slam, and then footsteps up the porch steps. With salty fingers, he beckoned the two new betas to follow. “Come along, my emotionally stunted friends. Let’s go get you a permission slip.”


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles groaned as the final bell rang. They were standing just outside Derek’s classroom, but it would be an hour and a half until they could see each other again. Derek leaned forward and gave him a kiss. “What are you gonna do for your free period?”  
  
He shrugged, running a hand over Derek’s defined arm. “Just hang around. Maybe do some homework. I hate having a spare when you have a class.” But this time, he had a little bit of a different plan than he was telling Derek. Sometimes it was handy that Derek didn’t have the same ability to hear lies in a heartbeat that Stiles did. He knew Derek might try to dissuade him, and that just wouldn’t do. It was all for Derek’s protection and the good of the pack, anyway. So he let Derek drag him in for another short kiss before he playfully shoved him toward his class, and watching until he disappeared inside the door.  
  
“You’re both too gross to exist,” came a voice by his shoulder. Stiles grinned and nudged Scott with his elbow.  
  
“I hear your harsh words for what they really are, Scott: jealousy.”  
  
Scott made a face that showed just how exasperated Stiles made him. And then he bumped him. “Whatever. You two are weird. I got the new Final Fantasy, dude. You should come play sometime.”  
  
Stiles nodded, just wanting to get a move on. He had a plan to see through. “Yeah, sounds good. I’ll have my people call your people,” Stiles said in a funny voice and did the corny finger shooting thing. Scott chuckled and went into the classroom, leaving Stiles to scurry off in the opposite direction. He knew from many hit-and-miss attempts at conversation with the other people that took his Physics class that their teacher’s break period just happened to fall on one of the few hours that Derek and Stiles weren’t stuck at the hip.  
  
Kate Argent turned to peer suspiciously at him from her desk as Stiles informed the teacher, who was about to tuck into his lunch, that he was requested in the principal’s office. With a sigh, the middle-aged old codger stood and took his apple with him as he left the room. Probably for the best - the office was on the complete opposite end of the school. He’d need to keep his energy up. And maybe some food in his belly would keep him from getting too cranky to learn that he’d never really been requested at all.  
  
When they were alone, Stiles lightly nudged the door closed. “So, I think we should talk. Because we both know what we are, obviously, so it’s kind of ridiculous for us to pretend like we don’t.”  
  
She stood up from the desk, giving a smile that didn’t look at all friendly. “Pretty forward of you. Gotta say, I thought you were gonna keep trying to hide.” She came around her desk and leaned against the front of it, crossing her arms under the low cut of her blouse. “So. What do you want to talk about?”  
  
“Don’t play dumb,” he sneered. His wolf stirred, hackles raised when she just smirked back in challenge.  
  
“Is this your ‘stay away from my man’ intimidation schtick? Bit premature, don’t you think?”  
  
“Call it a pre-emptive strike,” Stiles growled. “Better safe than sorry. And it’s my job to keep him safe.”  
  
“Your job?”  
  
“I’m an amazing boyfriend, according to Derek. Ten out of ten, would recommend. Point is, that creepy little pass you made yesterday? At a _minor_? It doesn’t happen again.” He tried to stand as intimidating as his father could, but fell short. If he needed the intimidation, he could always bring out the claws.  
  
Kate smirked and gave a shrug. “We’re only seven years apart. And he’ll be eighteen in a couple months.” The look she gave him was pure evil. “Maybe he needs a more experienced woman to teach him things. After all, being with one person your whole life makes you kind of stunted in the sexual experience department.”  
  
For the first few seconds, all he could feel was pure outrage, his wolf and humanity indignant at the suggestion that he couldn’t satisfy his mate-elect. The larger part of him was confident that that was not, and could not be the case - he and Derek were tried and tested in their chemistry, their perfection. He fiercely wanted to ignore the tiny part of him that wondered. Kate’s painted lips stretched into a smile that was made to antagonize. “You may thrive off of the time you spend with him, but he probably gets restless, doesn’t he? He can’t possibly want the constant touches, or your possessiveness, or your presence all the time, now can he?” She pushed herself away from the desk, her body one line of fluid, aggressive motion. “Because he’s human. And he grows out of things. You’re comfortable to him, Stilinski. But we outgrow what makes us comfortable as _children_.”  
  
Stiles couldn’t help it - he felt his fangs grow, and he growled at her. But he didn’t completely wolf out, which was a good thing, in hindsight. “Derek has asked to be made my mate. Clearly he’s not all that bored.”  
  
“It sounds like someone’s a little defensive,” Kate sneered. As if she wanted to not be affected, but she wanted to get under Stiles’ skin. And it was working; he certainly did want to forget all of his responsibilities and turn into a raging supernatural monster and rip out her throat. But there was Derek to consider, and his father, and just the thought of them made his eyes fade back to brown and his claws retract.  
  
“Of course I’m defensive, you old crone - you insulted my mate bond. Stooping pretty low, aren’t we? Rolling around in the mud with us _animals_ now, aren’t you proud of yourself.” Stiles hitched his bag over his shoulder and stared her down. “I’ve made my point. Keep your hands to yourself or you’re gonna lose them. Your permission to be here is threadbare and the scales are tipping further and further out of your favor.”  
  
“Oh please, we have more manpower than your kind. And we can call in more.” Kate stepped forward, tilting her head. “If there was a war, your pack would easy prey. Your Alpha isn’t as big and powerful as you think.”  
  
Stiles felt his heart skip a beat, but he tried not to let it show on his face. Was she threatening his dad? “Was that a threat?”  
  
“Why? Do you feel threatened?”  
  
Slowly, he showed just enough fang to get his point across. “I’m gonna run and tell my daddy the word _war_ came out of your mouth, and then we’ll see who isn’t as big and powerful as we think.” What he really wanted to do was make his exit after hurling a desk or seven at her disturbing face, but what he did instead was turn on his heel and march himself out before he changed his mind.  
  
He walked a few times around the school trying to calm himself down, and ended up running into Boyd on the third lap. He looked over Stiles, eyes narrowing. “You smell distressed. Are you alright?”  
  
Stiles forced himself to grin. “I’m fine. Just had a bit of a scare. You don’t have a class right now?”  
  
“We felt you getting restless,” he said, and Stiles quirked a brow. Boyd shrugged his massive shoulders. “More than usual. Isaac’s in a test, though.”  
  
“So you came to check on me.” Boyd shrugged again. “You can go back to class now. I’ve taken care of everything.”  
  
“You wanna tell me what that means?”  
  
Stiles shoved his hands in his pockets and pursed his lips. “Not particularly, no.”  
  
Boyd just nodded. “Alright. Call us if it happens again.” And then he left, because Boyd was cool like that and was perfectly fine with not prying into someone else’s business. Stiles watched him go, scrubbing his hands over his hair. What he wanted to do was text Derek to meet him in the bathroom, because there was nothing in the world that could help him breathe easy like tucking his face into the crook of Derek’s neck. He’d taken the phone from his pocket on reflex and lifted it, his thumbs poised above the keys to type out a message. But slowly, almost painfully, he turned it back off and stowed it back in his pocket. And for the first time in their decade together, Stiles tried to taper down his childish desire for Derek’s comfort.

 **.**  
  
The next Physics class, Stiles watched out for Kate with a fierce and weary stare. But she wasn't there. At all. Derek sat beside him like always, glancing sideways at him. Stiles grabbed his pen, clicking it. "Why isn't she here? What's she trying to do?"  
  
Derek reached over to curl his fingers around the back of Stiles’ neck. “We could always assume that she might actually be in college and in this position not just to watch you, but actually to train for a future career. Somehow I doubt hunting pays the bills.”  
  
Stiles shrugged and ducked his head to grab his books. “I don’t know. She’s an Argent, I don’t trust her.” He glanced away and tried to act normally around Derek. For the last night, he’d been trying not to let what Kate had said affect him, and for the most part he didn’t. Logically, he knew she was just trying to get a rise out of him, and that if he let himself entertain the notions she put in his head, he was letting her win. But there were instances - flashes of sharp, cold discomfort - that he wondered to himself if the reason it shook him so badly was that there might be a grain of truth to it. That Derek, a human, a creature that was not meant for monogamy like Stiles was, might not feel the same way he did now for the rest of their lives.  
  
And the human was looking at him right now. Which wasn’t weird in and of itself, but the look he was giving him kind of was. Luckily the teacher began his lecture, and didn’t say anything about why Kate wasn’t there, which just seemed all the more suspicious to Stiles. “Isaac has a free period right now… do you think she could be cornering him? It could happen, she’s fucking crazy.” And no, it didn’t slip his mind that he had cornered her on her free period yesterday, but this was _different_.  
  
“If she was here at all, she would have at least visited this classroom earlier today, right?” Derek muttered under his breath. He was still eying Stiles weirdly. “Is her scent that strong here?”  
  
“I can’t tell from here,” he mumbled back, slouching down in his seat. “Her odor’s pungent everywhere. I can’t tell if it’s as recent as this morning or yesterday afternoon.”  
  
Derek gave a nod, and looked around the room. He pointed over at the desk where she normally sat. “She usually puts her purse on the floor. It’s not there, so she’s probably not at the school today.”  
  
Stiles looked over to him with a smirk. “Well deduced, Watson.” Derek snorted quietly and punched his arm.  
  
As their teacher droned on about applied mathematics and Stiles heard at least two heads thump to their desks around him as kids passed out from sheer boredom, he knew that Derek was listening intently. It was not the first time the thought had struck him that Derek would make a good wolf, and a great beta. He was always alert to authority, intelligent, keen to detail. Sometimes it even seemed like he was more pack-oriented than Stiles. He knew that his father was ready to give Derek the bite whenever he said the word, and had professed to Stiles that he’d thought Derek would have asked for it much sooner. Normally, Stiles just thought that Derek was waiting for so long because he was being thoughtful, practical, weighing his options and taking his time because Derek was nothing if not mindful. But now, it suddenly occurred to him that maybe Derek just didn’t want to be a wolf at all.  
  
He grew quieter and quieter the whole class, worrying about it. Maybe Derek wanted to keep his options open, and wanted to be able to move on. If he was a wolf he would pretty much be tied to Stiles. And he had never protested the fact that John wanted them to wait to make the mating bond. Why had he thought they would be together forever? No one stayed in love with their childhood fling. Stiles was only lucky they had lasted this long, really. Ten years. That was more than most adult relationships lasted, right?  
  
The more he thought about it, the more Stiles’ stomach churned in vile upset, and more than anything he wanted to drag himself closer to Derek for comfort. It took him a minute to realize that he already had - that his palm overlapped the back of Derek’s hand, and he had situated their fingers together. He was using Derek as his comfort blanket again, he realized, and pulled his hand away.  
  
“What’s wrong with you?” Derek asked, his eyebrows pulling down in confusion. The teacher was in the middle of a lecture so he didn’t press the issue, but he stayed pretty close to Stiles for the rest of the class.  
  
It kind of made him feel better, except that it didn’t mean that Derek wouldn’t one day leave him. Stiles didn’t want to worry about it, because it could be years before it happened and he had a lot of things to worry about already. It was a thought that was intended to cheer himself up, or at least to offer some relief, but all it did was make his chest constrict achingly when he realized that it only meant the clock was ticking. Every second brought him closer to the far-off instance where Derek would get tired of him, would realize that Stiles wasn’t all he’d idolized as a small child, and stop being content with what was comfortable and start looking for something new. One day, there would be no Derek in his life, and with that, Stiles shoved his chair back and had to excuse himself from the room. He couldn’t breathe.  
  
Stiles quickly made his way down the hallway, just barely keeping himself from running. He was not having a panic attack, he definitely wasn’t. He was just freaking out. He heard the door open behind him, and ducked into a bathroom just as footsteps came around.  
  
“Stiles? Stiles! Where did you-” But then the footsteps stopped, and Stiles heard Derek’s heartbeat just outside the door. And then he opened stall, because goddammit he knew Stiles too well.  
  
Derek’s body filled up the doorway and Stiles suddenly felt claustrophobic, like he needed to run, but all at once, he just wanted to curl up as small as he could be and hide under Derek’s warmth until every bad thing in his head was gone. Of course, Derek _knew_ him, and he couldn’t even blink before he was being pulled into a crushing embrace as he shook and stuttered. Stiles had never been embarrassed for Derek to see him weak, because he had claimed him, he thought. Now, though, it just terrified him to think that he would always belong to Derek, but Derek didn’t have to belong to him.  
  
“Calm down, it’s alright. It’s gonna be okay. I don’t have a paper bag with me, so just breath in and out,” Derek said, soothingly, and oh god he thought he was having a panic attack.  
  
Stiles pressed close and just smelled Derek. Even though he was worried about being left alone, the smell of his lover was comforting. “No, I just… fuck I don’t know,” Stiles choked, feeling a tear start to make its way down his face.  
  
"What happened? You've been acting weird since yesterday. Did something trigger you into a panic attack?" Derek must have been holding back his worry before; he almost always stayed silent when Stiles had an attack, murmuring soft nothings that soothed his wolf and brought him back.  
  
Stiles shook his head and pulled back. "Derek, I'll be fine, alright? Maybe you should go back to class." He managed to say without stuttering or gasping for air, so that was something. But Derek grabbed onto his arm.

"I'm not leaving. What's going on? Stiles, you can tell me."  
  
One hand released Stiles' arm to reach up and thumb away the fat tears that dripped down from Stiles' eyes. Gently, his skin brushed wet eyelashes and Stiles let out a slow, shaken breath. "I - it'll pass. I promise. I let her get to me and... look, can we not talk about this here?"  
  
Derek stared into his eyes for a short moment before his lips pressed together in a thin line and his jaw was set, determined. Derek nodded once and gently squeezed Stiles' face between his palms. "Stay here. Don't move." And then he was gone. Only a few short moments later, Derek had returned with his bag over one arm, Stiles' over the other, and held out his hand. "Let's go."  
  
Stiles sniffed and gave a small grin, because damn if he didn't have the best boyfriend in the world. So of course he had to suffer the crippling fear that his perfect boyfriend wouldn't want to always stay with him. Stiles stood up from the floor and grabbed his bag.  
  
Derek held out his hand. "Keys. You're not driving while you're crying."  
  
Scrubbing at his face, Stiles handed over the keys before he turned on the sink, pooling the cool water in his hands and dipping his upper face into it until the water dripped out of his fingers, and repeated the action once more. He towelled his face dry and followed Derek obediently out the door, his heart thumping when Derek took his hand and squeezed.  
  
Once in the car, they didn't even talk about where they were going; Derek just drove to Stiles' house. The alpha was out working his shift, and they would be alone. But Stiles couldn't help but feel a little strange. He didn't really want to tell Derek what he was thinking. After all, that would just force Derek into a situation where he felt obligated to say he wanted to stay with Stiles. Derek was nice like that, almost too nice, and Stiles didn't want to _trap_ him.  
  
When they got to the house, Derek tossed his bag on the sofa and strode into the kitchen, reminding Stiles of another gradual happenstance; he wondered exactly when Derek had stopped spending his time at his family house and started calling Stiles' house _home_. It was more his home than the Hale house seemed to be; he spent almost every day at the Stilinski house, and slept there at least half the week. He had his own space for clothes in Stiles' closet, and in his dresser drawers, Derek's underwear and socks were folded neatly on one half while Stiles were thrown haphazardly inside the other. He had his own pillow, his own side of the bed, and had for the better part of that decade. Hell, Derek kept his own set of shampoo and soap in the shower. It boggled Stiles' mind that he hadn't completely moved in already. And it hurt to think that that might have been a just-in-case sort of thing, too. Derek didn't officially move into the Stilinski house _just in case_ he needed somewhere to go when he and Stiles...  
  
Stiles didn't even know what he'd call it. 'Broke it off' was too casual for their connection. 'Broke up' was too cheap. 'Separated' made it sound like it would be a bitter affair on both sides.  
  
His melancholy reverie was broken when the warm, rich scent of chocolate and hot milk filled his nose and he swallowed thickly, following it to the kitchen. Derek stirred at the pot in front of him, the hot cocoa bubbling and frothy around the edges, a bag of marshmallows and two mugs at his elbow lying in wait for the drink to be poured.  
  
Stiles had to look away. For a while, he had thought of hot chocolate as their _thing_ , but did Derek feel the same? He remembered their first date, sharing a large hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. Was Derek trying to make him remember that? Or was it just coincidence?  
  
"Don't leave the kitchen. Once this is heated up, I expect you to spill your guts," Derek said, still facing the stove. He tested the temperature and seemed to decide it was good enough and he poured it into the two mugs.  
  
In each, he only filled them a bit before dumping a fistful of marshmallows in each and then carefully poured the hot cocoa over the pile of white, until it seeped through the pillowy crevices and the marshmallow mountain floated to the top. Derek left whatever remained of the cocoa on the stove before he brought both mugs over and settled down at the table facing Stiles, his hazel eyes piercing. "Okay."  
  
"Okay," Stiles echoed quietly. "Um. Can I have a spoon?" Derek stood and fetched one, tossing it to Stiles from the drawer. He caught it easily, and Derek took his seat again.  
  
Stiles fished out one of his soggy marshmallows and hummed. "You make good hot chocolate. You should open a store. _Chez Derek_."  
  
"We're not here to talk about hot chocolate. Why did you have a panic attack? You haven't had one for years. And why have you been so distant?" Derek hadn't touched his hot chocolate yet, just staring unblinkingly at Stiles.  
  
Flinching, Stiles stared down glumly at his mug and shrugged. It was... _hard_ not talking to Derek. Every part of him did and always had been completely open to him - just Derek, only Derek, always. And more than anything he just wanted to spill out all his fears and have them soothed away. Derek was amazing at that - all logic and love for Stiles, and it never failed to make him feel better. And maybe that was why Derek was pressing so hard now. They had never been separated by secrets or hurts before. Derek had always taken Stiles' pain as his own, bore it with him. He felt like he was choking on the words he wasn't saying. "Stiles... I don't understand. Why can't you talk to me?" He looked imploringly at Stiles for a moment before his eyes widened. "Is it... Stiles, were you cursed?"  
  
And Stiles let out a little sob of laughter, covering his face with both his hands. "No, geez, no. I mean, she's a fucking _witch_ , but no."  
  
"Well then, you should be able to tell me. Come on, no secrets, remember?" He reached out and grabbed Stiles hand, holding it tightly.  
  
Stiles had to look down to his mug, unable to meet Derek's intense gaze. "It's, it's nothing. The Argent bitch said some stuff and I've been thinking that maybe she was right."  
  
At that, the hold on his hand tightened. "Are you an idiot? Why would you listen to her? Stiles, whatever she said was just to screw with your mind, and obviously it's working." There was a pause, and then he looked curious. Shit. "When did you talk to her?"  
  
“Uh. Two, um. Days ago.”  
  
Derek narrowed his eyes and fuck, he was so arousing when he got serious like that. He had a jawline sculpted by angels, and the ticking muscle in it only made it more pronounced. If Stiles didn’t feel like shit, he would have mounted that in the very chair he sat in a heartbeat. Stiles shifted, ignoring the little stir his dick gave, and slowly, it began to settle. “Two days.”  
  
“That’s what I said, bunny bread,” he joked weakly.  
  
“And what did she say that could have made you this upset with me?”  
  
“Not with you!” Stiles yelped. “I mean, I’m not angry with you at all. It’s just nature; wolves mate for life, and humans, well... don’t. And I don’t blame you, I’m really kind of depressed about it, because I don’t want to lose you and-” He cut himself off with a sob. That was way more than he wanted to say, and now there were tears falling down his face again.  
  
“Come here,” Derek said, and almost like he was given a direct order from an alpha, Stiles stumbled out of his seat and was pulled into Derek’s lap. The chair groaned under both their weight, but Stiles knew from experience that it could take it, and he let himself be cradled like a child, even though he was almost Derek’s size. He drew in deep, shuddering gasps and was suddenly extremely grateful that Derek had dropped everything to bring him home, instead of having this conversation in a high school bathroom stall. The scent of home and hot chocolate and Derek made it easier to breathe as he curled awkwardly with his mate-elect on the too-small kitchen chair.  
  
“I’m so scared,” he confessed against the stubble on Derek’s hard jaw, “f-fucking terrified that you’ll leave me, because it makes s-sense -”  
  
“It doesn’t,” Derek cut him off, and Stiles’ mouth shut so fast his teeth clicked. “It makes no sense at all. Stiles, she doesn’t know you, or me, or us.”  
  
He wiped his nose and glanced up. “But she knows humans. And Derek, I don’t want to t-tie you to me, because then you would hate m-me and then-” But he shut up when Derek gripped his arm, hard.  
  
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re an idiot if you think I would ever leave you, or hate you.” Derek then paused, and then quickly stood up, awkwardly dislodging Stiles from his lap. But he was still holding onto his arm, so (even though he was stronger) Stiles was forced to stumble along after him as Derek made his way upstairs.  
  
Once in Stiles’ bedroom, Derek threw him down on the mattress, and quickly followed. Plastering himself on Stiles’ body, Derek pressed his face against Stiles’ neck. Stiles felt his heartbeat ratchet up and he let out a startled yelp when Derek bit down on his shoulder, hard. He kissed the rapidly fading bite mark once before sucking on it, hard enough to sting and make Stiles keen, rolling up against him. It was making him hard embarrassingly fast, the change in Derek, and when he looked up, his eyes were dark and furious and pleading. One strong hand pushed against his chest and Stiles struggled on principle, just to feel how firmly he was being held down.  
  
Then Derek took his shirt off with his free hand, muscles rippling under his skin. “Stiles. I want to show you that I never plan on leaving, alright?” He let him go, and rolled so their positions were changed, Derek on his back and Stiles leaning over him. “I want you to bite me. So that it will leave a mark.”  
  
Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but Derek covered his lips with his hand. “Shut up, I’ve thought about this, alright? You’re not the Alpha, so it won’t change me, and it’s not the full moon, so it won’t make a mating bond, like your father asked. But we obviously both need some sign that this is forever, and I _want_ it.”  
  
Shuddering, Stiles pulled back just enough that he could lean forward again and butt his nose into Derek’s palm. Obligingly, the human curled it around his cheek, and Stiles leaned into the touch. He could hear from the steady beat in Derek’s heart that he meant it, wanted it badly. Just as badly, Stiles’ wolf was whining for it. “Where?” he asked, his voice coming out so quiet, it was almost a whisper.  
  
“Wherever you want,” Derek answered, his thumb gliding over Stiles’ bottom lip. “I’m yours, Stiles. You’re an idiot if you think I could be anything but yours. Now hurry up and bite me so you can fuck me after.”  
  
He huffed out a laugh. “Alright, turn around.” He lifted up as Derek obligingly flipped onto his stomach, and he spent at least three minutes mouthing all over the expanse of skin there. Then, finally, he paused, and forced his wolf to come out. Fangs descended, and his claws grew long and sharp as Stiles picked the exact place he wanted this. He flattened his palm there, right between Derek’s golden, unmarred shoulder blades, at the top notches of his spine where it would be easier to get his mouth around. “Tilt your head forward,” he said around the fangs, and Derek’s head dipped down to the pillows while his muscular shoulders folded in toward each other, and Stiles petted him at the nape of his neck. “Derek.”  
  
“I love you. And if it were the full moon, I’d ask to be your mate right fucking now. Bite me, Stiles.”  
  
And Stiles bit him, felt his teeth sink in. Derek tensed below him, and Stiles felt the warm tang of blood slowly fill his mouth. When he pulled away, there were two rows of teeth, right between Derek’s shoulder blades.  
  
“Are you alright?” Stiles asked, back to human already, and ran a hand down Derek’s flank.  
  
“I’m perfect. Now fuck me, and then we can put a bandage on that.”  
  
Stiles licked the blood - Derek’s blood, holy _shit_ \- from the corner of his lips and leaned over again to nuzzle his nape. “No,” he practically crooned, his wolf aching to roll around in Derek, “you animal, I’m going to patch you up first. You know my first instinct is to protect you, and that means from rabies as well.”  
  
“You don’t have rabies,” Derek huffed, but Stiles just stuck his nose into Derek’s hair for a long whiff and leaned down to lap up whatever blood had spilled from the bite before he lifted himself off.  
  
“Don’t move,” he commanded, adjusting himself awkwardly in his pants as he shuffled to the bathroom for the first aid kit they only had around for Derek. What an idiot he’d been, thinking Derek wanted to leave him. Was he out of his mind?  
  
When he got back, Derek was standing at the wall mirror, his neck craned at a painful-looking angle, trying to see the bite. “Why did you have to do it somewhere I can’t see?” he grunted, trying to catch a glimpse.  
  
“You weren’t complaining. Don’t worry, I think it’s sexy.” Stiles opened the kit for some disinfectant and flicked his eyes up at Derek’s face. “Hey... thanks, for that. I feel stupid for thinking you would want to leave.”  
  
“Yeah, you’d better feel stupid. Now patch me up so we can have sex,” Derek said, smiling slyly at Stiles. It was a little crooked, and didn’t really show his teeth, and was so much better than those fake smiles he sometimes used on other people just to look normal. This smile was all for Stiles, and he loved it. He squirted the pasty ointment on a cotton ball and dabbed at the bite marks, nuzzling Derek’s shoulder when the sting made him hiss. “If it doesn’t scar,” Derek huffed after a minute, and Stiles moved to grab a handful of bandaids, “you’re going to have to do it again.”  
  
“And once when we mate, too,” he said, happiness welling in him like a bubble. “That one’ll definitely heal, though, ‘cause once you’re my mate, you get the perk of inheriting a bit of my freaky healing powers.”  
  
Derek nodded, looking at him through the mirror. "Maybe, when we become mates, I should take the bite from your father, too."  
  
Stiles couldn't help the grin he gave when he started putting bandaids over the wound. "Only if you want to. I’m totally cool with you staying human, if you want. But if you stay human we would have to adopt a pack. Well, I guess we do anyway, because I bet Erica is gonna have kids with Boyd and Isaac, and they’ll be the cutest werebabies in the world." He snorted. "At least it'll be easy to know the father, right?"  
  
Derek slowly closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands, making Stiles laugh in turn. Taking advantage of the situation, Stiles placed the last bandaid over his own bites and leaned forward to kiss just over the arched back of his neck. "What're you gonna tell people when they ask why you have this scar?" he asked against the hot sun-kissed skin, nuzzling the soft hair just above and taking a deep breath.  
  
“I won’t let people see it.” Derek said, and turned around to kiss him.  
  
“What? But what about when you change at the gym? Or go swimming? Or it’s a hot day, or maybe I just want to show off my shirtless boyfriend?” Stiles asked, because up until now, Derek had considered most occasions as shirt optional.  
  
Derek shrugged. “So you don’t like the idea of you being the only one to see me shirtless?”  
  
“Derek,” Stiles sighed, patting Derek’s shoulder consolingly. “I hate to have to be the one to tell you this, but... you’re practically never _not_ shirtless. See, even now you can’t help but be half naked, because you were born with the stripping gene.” Derek swatted back at him and got his thigh, Stiles laughing all the while. “Seriously though! Even when you were, like, eleven and the scrawniest thing I’d ever seen, you’d throw your shirt off at a moment’s notice. And now look at you - you’re built like a fucking Greek statue, roasted medium well by the sun for that nice golden color, and you seriously think I’m gonna be able to survive seeing you less shirtless _now_?”  
  
“Sorry, I thought you were going for the whole possessive schtick.”  
  
“Nuh uh, mister. You _work_ that general all of you area.”  
  
Derek turned, leaning against the dresser and pulling Stiles close by the belt loops. “Maybe I’ll just tell them it was you, then. Total accident. You were jarred forward by an earthquake or something.”  
  
“We were on a train fighting baddies, stopped for a quick fuck because damn if I could hold back with you wearing tight and therefore totally battle-ready black jeans with gun holsters, holy _shit_ , and then the train derailed.”  
  
“We didn’t realize it was the full moon and you suddenly turned into a werewolf.”  
  
“So unrealistic,” Stiles snorted, and pulled Derek in for a sloppy kiss.

  **.**  
  
It took three days for the scar to heal, and that third day, Stiles could not stop touching Derek’s back. Even when he was wearing a shirt, he knew what lay underneath, and it drove him crazy. He was pretty sure it drove Derek crazy as well.  
  
The next day, Stiles saw Kate in the halls in passing. So she was back. Maybe it had just been a TA thing after all. Stiles still felt sick when he caught her scent, but that was pretty much a gut reaction by this point. She smiled like a snake and Stiles’ grip on Derek’s hand tightened. Derek looked up on instinct from his conversation with Boyd in the direction Stiles was looking and squeezed back when he saw her. Boyd and Isaac looked, too, and when they did, Derek wasn’t exactly sure who had started growling, but it was quiet enough that they called no attention to themselves. Once she was gone, Derek shifted a little closer to Stiles and tugged on his arm. “Trig starts in thirty seconds, come on.”  
  
Once she was out of sight, Stiles gave a nod and followed him out. "Derek. We have to get her out of our school. There has to be a way, I don't care what my dad says."  
  
"And how do you propose we do that, Stiles?" he asked lowly, ducking in close when they entered the class and took their seats. They could hardly whisper an aisle apart, so they whipped out their phones when the bell rang.  
  
 _I don't know, but I don't want to wait until she makes her first move. That could be fatal._ _  
  
_ _We should bring Isaac and Boyd in on this. They want her gone just as much._ _  
_  
Derek hid his phone when the teacher came around to drop off papers, but pulled it out after to read the response.  
  
 _Yeah, we definitely need them_.  
  
Derek fired off a couple texts to the both of them and then glanced over at Stiles. _Told them to meet us at the park down the street after school; John would smell them if they came to your place_. Almost immediately after he sent it off, his phone vibrated with a text from Isaac. Derek held up one finger toward Stiles, whose thumbs were poised and ready to respond, and Derek tapped, _Erica also coming_.

 _Dammit, no she isn't! No offense Derek but the last thing we need is two humans. Erica is badass and everything, but at least you can fire a gun & u have some insane muscles. She should stay home_. Stiles gave a few gestures to drive his point home, which got him the stink eye from the teacher.  
  
Derek's phone buzzed three more times and his smile got a little wider with each one. His eyes were laughing as he glanced over at Stiles and sent, _She knew you'd say that. Told me to convince you. Or she'd stop giving you discounts at the comic book shop_.  
  
"Dastardly little minx," he heard Stiles grumble under his breath, and had to cough to mask his laughter.  
  
The text he got back had a few sad faces. _Fine she can come, but only to the park where we talk about stuff. She can't come to anything that might have fighting._ _  
  
_ _You can talk to her about that. Good luck convincing her._ _  
  
_ _YOU convince her. If I do it she'll rip my throat out._ _  
  
_ _Good thing you heal so quickly._ _  
_  
 _You're a goddamn sexy Judas, you know that?_ _  
_  
Derek flashed him a quick smirk. _I think she's been training with Boyd?_ _  
  
_ _Training for what? Being tall, dark, and silent?_

                        _  
_Derek stifled a chuckle at that and shook his head. _Training to fight. He says she's doing pretty well._ Once the class was finished, they could talk to the others face to face. Derek was certain that Erica could easily convince Stiles to let her come help fight, because she was pretty persuasive when she had her mind set on something.  
  
 _Why does that look on your face say you wouldn’t mind her coming along, Sexy Judas_? and then, four seconds later, _What kind of fighting training?_ To be honest, Derek didn’t think Stiles intended to fight unless absolutely necessary, and even in that case, he didn’t know how Stiles intended to go about fighting when the sheriff had never made it a priority. They were a little, quiet pack in a small town, well established and - for the most part - maintaining a sort of peace treaty with the only hunters nearby. They were made up mostly of minors, for goodness’ sake; they had no reason to learn to fight. For all Derek knew, if it came down to it, Stiles would probably just fall back on instinct.  
  
 _For the record, I don’t like that nickname. And I don’t know, ask them yourself, you have their numbers just as much as I do_. The bell rang, startling the two who hadn’t noticed how quickly the time had passed and everyone put away their books, standing up from their chairs.  
  
Stiles grabbed his arm heading to the door. “I like the nickname. It implies that you’re attractive, _and_ that you’re filthy traitor.”  
  
“You can’t really put me on the same level as Judas, just for convincing you to let her come along.”  
  
“Can’t I?” Stiles raised one eyebrow high and Derek just rolled his eyes, checking his phone when it buzzed.  
  
“They said they’d meet us there after Isaac talked with his Calculus tutor,” he said, stowing it back away in his pocket. Stiles nodded thoughtfully.  
  
“Wanna grab a bite then?”  
  
“We just ate three hours ago,” Derek pointed out, but Stiles just gave him a weird look.  
  
“Dude, you burn more calories with your pinky finger in an hour than you probably eat all day. Come on, sugar, let me treat you to something nice. Like french fries.”  
  
“You do know how to treat a lady.”  
  
Stiles laughed and pulled him along. Derek followed after him obediently.  
  
 **.**  
  
There were a few kids playing frisbee at the park when they arrived. They all grabbed a picnic table, filling up the narrow benches. Erica was first to bring whatever subject at hand to the table. “So what are we gonna do to ice this bitch?”  
  
“Way to not make this sound like a mob hit,” Boyd said.  
  
"It does seem kind of like it when it's a group of dangerous individuals plotting to threaten someone out of town," Derek pointed out. Stiles mouthed 'Sexy Judas' and narrowed his eyes into slits.  
  
"So that's what we want to do? Just get her out of town?" Isaac asked, looking between everyone.  
  
"Yes, we want her gone," Stiles said, completely serious. He put both his hands on the table, leaning forward. "Chris Argent doesn't want a war. If it seems that she's trying to start one, maybe he'll send her away again."  
  
"And how are we supposed to convince people on both sides that Kate Argent wants to start a war?" Boyd asked. Erica leaned over and hooked her arm around his shoulders.  
  
"It shouldn't be that hard," Derek said slowly, leaning back against the table and folding his arms over his chest. "They already banished her with the half of the family that moved out six years ago. They must have had a reason for putting her in their ranks."  
  
Stiles nodded thoughtfully. "There's no way she has their full trust. Not Chris', anyway."  
  
"You'd just need proof, right?" Erica mused.  
  
“Exactly. I’ve already heard her threaten my dad, so maybe if she did it again while I recording it or something?” Stiles muttered thoughfully. Derek’s gaze was sharp.  
  
“I’m not... I don’t think it’s the best idea for you to talk to Kate alone again.” He stank of worry and Stiles shifted over in the bench until they were pressed side to side and stretched an arm behind Derek to finger at the space between his shoulder blades.  
  
“If she hasn’t gone after anyone else, then I’m the only one she cares about riling up,” he said quietly, trying to reason with both Derek and himself.  
  
Derek grabbed his hand, and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, you still shouldn’t be alone. Let me come with you. I could hide so she thinks you’re alone, but I’ll still be there if you need me.” He let that tone slip into his voice that said he wasn’t going to let this go. Stiles knew that tone very well.

“Fine. Fine, you can hide nearby and I’ll call if I need you. But I probably won’t need you, since I’m just going to talk to her.”  
  
“Maybe we should all be nearby?” Erica suggested, nodding to the two boys beside her. “This bitch is dangerous. Even if you’re just going to talk with her, I don’t trust her.”  
  
“Reinforcements,” Isaac agreed. Boyd nodded.  
  
“We won’t even pose a threat. We’re just there to make sure nothing happens to you, and get definitive proof that can take her down.”  
  
Stiles felt a little discontented niggle at the back of his mind. “I want to find out if she killed my mom.”  
  
The table was silent at that. The death of Julia Stilinski was kind of a taboo subject around the pack, because it was a horrible time for everyone involved. But then Derek broke the silence. “If we got her to admit that, do you think it would be enough for them to send her away?”  
  
“More than enough,” Stiles growled. “Chris Argent upholds the Code, and the Code says they only go after werewolves that attack humans.”  
  
It goes unspoken that Julia never hurt a human, not as long as she lived. Derek’s pretty sure he himself can attest to that. Boyd and Isaac make low noises that Derek isn’t even sure they know they’re making, sensing their packmate’s grief and responding to it.  
  
“Well good then.” Erica said, slamming a hand on the table. “Stiles, tell her to meet you somewhere. Somewhere with lots of hiding places.”  
  
Boyd coughed into his hand and they all looked over to him. “I might have a place. My uncle owns a junk yard, and trust me, there are a _lot_ of hiding places there.”  
  
“You don’t think that would be potentially, oh, I don’t know, _suspicious as hell_?” Stiles snaped. The three across from Derek and Stiles looked taken aback, and Derek knew that it wasn’t about them, that Stiles talking about his mother’s murder always put him in the foulest mood, and he unwinds his arms from over his chest and pulls Stiles’ arm away from his back to give himself room to reach behind instead and card his fingers through Stiles’ short hair.  
  
“We can be sure she’ll bring reinforcements, too,” he said, tugging gently in the way he knew Stiles liked, “which could be good. There’s more of a chance one of them will accidentally slip up and spill something, since we’ll be stirring up the excitement. If Boyd and Erica and Isaac are lying in wait first, then they could potentially get the evidence we need.”  
  
Isaac nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I could ask Danny to borrow his camera, and I could tape the whole thing. That way they would have to believe us.”  
  
“And whoever she brings hopefully follows the Code, so they won’t try to hurt us. And they would be able to confirm what she says.”  
  
Derek hummed at that. “I wouldn’t rely on that. I doubt she would bring hunters who strictly adhere the Code, considering we’re pretty sure that she’s planning to do some heinous stuff.”  
  
Isaac looked confused and then upset about that. “This is seriously messed up. Don’t you think John would believe you if you told him all this? Wouldn’t he put a stop to it?”  
  
“Dad’s a good cop,” Stiles almost hated to admit. “Innocent until proven guilty. And without that proof, she’s gotta be considered innocent.”  
  
“Don’t you think we should at least let him know part of the plan?” Boyd asked. “If any of us get hurt while staking out peacefully, that would be grounds for suspicion.”  
  
“I’m not waiting for one of you to be hurt,” Stiles said firmly, his brow furrowed. Isaac snuck a glance at Erica, biting his lip. She looked over and frowned.  
  
“Don’t even think about telling me not to come.”  
  
“These are _hunters_. And you don’t have the same healing abilities that we do if... if something goes wrong.”  
  
She smirked and put her arms around Isaac and Boyd. “Luckily I have two big strong werewolves to protect me if something happens.” And it wasn’t fair that she was allowed to use her lady powers as she ran light fingers along their shoulders.  
  
Stiles frowned and shook his head. “I don’t want you there. It’s bad enough that Derek’s going to be there, I don’t want to have to worry about you too.”  
  
And at that, Derek had to interfere. “Just because we’re human doesn’t mean we’re useless. We can both help you guys out, and we still have the good sense to stay out of the way. If all goes well there won’t even be any fighting, so we’ll be fine.” He looked calm, but Stiles could tell he was putting on a patient front in front of the other three.  
  
“You’re not useless,” Stiles grouched. “I never said that. But you’re - you can be a liability to us.” Derek’s eyebrows seemed to say, ‘Like that’s so much better.’ Stiles turned to address them all. “If it comes down to our bare instincts, we’re going to want to protect our more vulnerable, our mates. Our _human_ mates. We won’t be in a state of proper thinking if they’re threatened. We basically become the aimlessly vicious creatures that most of those hunters believe we are, and that could seriously jeopardize this whole thing.”  
  
Erica narrowed her eyes at him. “So you can have Derek there but I can’t be there? What, because he’s a macho guy?”  
  
“Honestly I don’t want Derek there either.” Stiles looked over to him and tried to show on his face what he meant. “I don’t want to have to worry about you, and you know I will if you’re in any sort of potential danger.”  
  
But, of course, Derek wasn’t having any of it. “Hunters are less likely to go after humans. And you know what? They’re trained to kill werewolves. And you’re a werewolf. That means they can hurt you, or even kill you if they wanted. So I don’t really care if you want me there or not. There’s no way in hell that I’m letting you go there without me.” Somehow, the clipped tone made it sound final, and Stiles’ hesitant brain conflicted heavily with his insanely proud wolf.  
  
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Erica said with a broad, feral grin. She crossed her legs and exchanged a look with Derek. “Besides, we humans don’t need claws and fangs to take down people who are trying to attack you; that’s what tasers are for.”

 

* * *

  
_16_

  
“-And that’s why Danny’s trying to make Jackson jealous.” Stiles finished explaining, after Danny settled down at their table. “So maybe you two could switch spots so that we can cuddle or something? We want this to look real.”  
  
Danny gave Derek a little grin, because he was just sweet like that. “I’m sorry Derek, if you’re uncomfortable with this, I can-”  
  
“No, it’s fine.” Derek stood up with his empty lunch tray. “I have some homework to do anyway, and if he’s with me I’ll never get it done.”  
  
Stiles squawked and threw a grape at Derek when he just walked away. He watched it bounce off Derek’s back and if it weren’t for the deafening chatter around the cafeteria, he was sure he would have heard him laugh. Since Danny was across from him, he was able to hear _his_ laugh, though, which was... well, it wasn’t as satisfying, but Stiles still snickered in tandem. “Derek seemed really cool about this,” the other boy mused, stabbing at the tomato in his salad. “And you know I only asked you because I know you and Derek are tight, and I don’t have an actual chance of making things weird between you two...”  
  
“And because we’re the only other boys who’ve been called fags on the playground, right?”  
  
“Well yeah, and I definitely wasn’t going to ask Derek. No offence, but he seems more moody than Jackson most of the time,” Danny said with a shrug.  
  
Stiles laughed at that. “He’s not really moody, just quiet around people that he isn’t comfortable with. Anyway, how do you want to play this? Because I would totally be up for a really long hug or something. Jackson keeps glancing over here so now would be a good time.”  
  
Danny gave him another smile and started his sandwich. “It probably won’t take a lot to make him jealous. Just hanging out with you instead of him seems to be working.” And honestly, that was fine with Stiles. The less he’d have to explain to his dad about any new scent all over him, the better. Plus, he didn’t know how well he could pull off faking intimacy with Danny. He was cool and all, but there were all of two people in the world he was comfortable getting cozy with for an extended period of time, and Danny just wasn’t one of them. Still, when Danny reached over and brushed the back of Stiles’ hand with his own and left it there briefly, Stiles couldn’t help but grin right into his face.  
  
“He’s looking over here, isn’t he.”  
  
“Absolutely.”  
  
Making Jackson jealous turned out to be pretty easy. Stiles stayed to watch the Lacrosse practice, which he normally did anyway because Derek played in it. And at breaks, Danny would come over and talk to him, smiling the whole while. Jackson started body checking his teammates more often in the practice. It was hilarious to Stiles in a mean sort of way, watching Jackson get called out by the coach for fucking around, just enraging him more. He was pretty amused by the whole thing until he saw Jackson stop and stare off in one direction, and when Stiles followed his line of vision, there was Derek, halfway across the field with his back turned. Stiles stood abruptly and tried to scramble off the bleachers, but Jackson was already there beside Derek, yanking him back by the shoulder and saying something in his ear.  
  
Derek didn’t really seem to react to it, which seemed to piss Jackson off even more, and then Derek started to talk. Stiles watched as Jackson’s face turned to rage, and he shoved Derek away.  
  
Stiles was halfway to them when the fight started, Jackson throwing the first punch. Derek responded by swiping his leg behind Jackson's knees and tripping the jerk, who promptly fell on his butt. Because he couldn’t run as fast as he wanted to with people around, coach got there before he did and started yelling at them. Stiles may or may not have used a bit of his supernatural speed to get to Derek’s side before Jackson could decide the coach’s scorn was worth it and go at Derek again. His eyes were filled with anger, and Stiles was only barely able to hold back a snarl as he shoved through the crowding players and situated himself between them, turning his back to Jackson and cupping Derek’s cheeks. He could see the blood before he smelled it, but the scent still made a low growl rumble in his chest as he dabbed at the streaks of red dribbling from Derek’s nose. “‘S’okay,” Derek said softly, ducking his head closed to Stiles. His eyes were watering - probably from the sharp sting of the nose injury.  
  
Whining, Stiles tried to pull him away from the crowd of people and off the field, where Stiles could keep him safe, and then suddenly Danny was by his side. His eyes were wide and brimming with concern. “I’m so sorry, Derek, this is all my fault.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Derek said, tipping his head back to try and slow the bleed. “But, I think he’s jealous enough now.” He gave a nod over to Jackson, who was glaring at them from between the players.  
  
Danny followed his line of sight, and gave a nod. “Alright, thanks guys. Hey, if you ever need a favour, just ask.” He gave a dimpled smile, and went over to Jackson, who looked surprised when Danny shoved his chest and started mumbling at him. Derek stopped to watch them for a minute, smiling just a bit when Danny followed the rant with a hug and a sharp punch to Jackson’s shoulder. But then Stiles started pulling on his arm with another low whine, his own eyes fixated on the blood running along the seam of Derek’s mouth and down his chin. If he parted his lips, even just a little, he knew it would come running into his mouth.  
  
“Come on, bathroom. And would it be weird to say that I’m kinda turned on right now because you totally rocked that fight? I mean, we haven’t done anything for like a week because my dad would know and... I really don’t want him to give the talk again.” They both shuddered at the memory.  
  
Derek wiped the blood away from his mouth. “You’re not suggesting the bathroom, are you?”  
  
“Nah. You only deserve the best,” Stiles conceded with a sigh. Just inside the locker room, Stiles stopped Derek and listened carefully for any other signs of life before he manhandled Derek into the showers and lightly touched Derek’s nose with the tips of his fingers, concentrating on taking the sharp, throbbing ache from Derek’s face and into the blackened veins along his arm.  
  
After a second, Derek rolled his eyes. “You really shouldn’t do that whenever I get hurt, you know. Besides, it’s still bleeding.”  
  
“Well at least it isn’t broken,” Stiles grumbled, grabbing some tissues. The flow was already starting to slow though, so that was good. “And plus, I hate you being in pain. So when I take the pain, it doesn’t hurt as much. For either of us.”  
  
“Obviously,” Derek grunted, pulling off his sweaty, bloody shirt before dipping his head in the shower and turning the water on to rinse the blood off his face and chest. His dark hair fell nearly to his eyes when he looked back up at Stiles, who just sighed and slicked it back.  
  
“Come on. Let’s go home, so you can have a real shower and lay your ass down with a bag of peas over your face while you tell me exactly what you said to Jackson to make him freak out like that.”  
  
At home, with said bag of peas and nestled in a bundle of blankets and Stiles, Derek explained. “Jackson was going on about how you were doing stuff with someone else now, and how you must be cheating. So I said, 'If Stiles is, then so is Danny.’ Didn’t realize he would freak out like that.”  
  
Stiles started to cackle long before the short story was finished. “Oh, that is awesome. And then you tripped Jackson! Best day ever.” He paused and gently lifted the frozen produce off of Derek’s face to observe the bruising skin and winced, taking away some of the pain again. “Except this. This was really shitty of him to do. Especially since he was the one trying to cheese you off in the first place.” Derek closed his eyes when Stiles stroked his hair and grunted, soft and sleepy.  
  
“‘s sad Jackson doesn’t trust Danny like I trust you,” he said, slowly opening his eyes to meet Stiles’.  
  
“Yeah,” Stiles mumbled, laying down and curling an arm over Derek’s chest. “Sucks for Danny that Jackson’s started showing interest in girls when Danny thought they were... y’know.”  
  
Derek nodded and closed his eyes again. “Your dad is going to ask why I have a black eye.”  
  
“So we tell him you were valiantly helping save Danny's feelings,” Stiles said, going back to stroking his hair. He paused a moment in thought. “I’m kinda surprised you didn’t have a problem with it. For all you knew, he could have wanted to get Jackson jealous by kissing me.”  
  
The human just shrugged. “That would have been fine. Your dad might have wondered about the smell.”  
  
Stiles' mouth fell open in surprise. "You wouldn't have minded if he _kissed_ me?"  
  
"He wouldn't. Danny's cool, he wouldn't do something like that. But even if he did, I know it wouldn't have meant anything to you."  
  
"Dude." Stiles was struck speechless for a long moment. That level of trust in him was... staggering. "Derek."  
  
"I've been with you on the full moon, remember?" he said drily, laying his hand over the one Stiles hadn't even realized he'd lain over Derek's bare stomach. "And I helped you pilfer your dad's aconite whiskey. You get really confessional when you're drunk on either. I know you want me for your mate, Stiles." A heavy, stuttering thump beat in Stiles' chest at the very mention of the wordcoming out of Derek's mouth. "Even if I hadn't heard you slur it over and over while rubbing your face into my back, I'd know. I'm not worried about Danny sitting across from you in the cafeteria or beside you on the bleachers. I know you love _me_."  
  
Stiles' lip wobbled, and then he surged forward, hugging Derek and hiding his face in the crook of the human's neck. The bag of peas slid off his face as he wrapped an arm around his boyfriend as well, and then Stiles began scenting him. Derek rubbed Stiles' back, knowing they might be here a while. "You're holding on a little tight there," he grunted, wheezing slightly as the air was squeezed out of him. Stiles made a noise of apology and loosened his grip a bit.  
  
"You're like something out of a Jane Austen novel," Stiles said, voice muffled against Derek's bare chest. He snorted, and Stiles looked up. "I'm totally serious. The things that come out of your mouth sometimes..."  
  
"I've cultivated this personality for you. Since you're the well-read, rambunctious heroine, I always knew you'd need a secretly romantic stick in the mud by your side," Derek said, his voice so even that Stiles just had to laugh.  
  
"Well then, thank you for being so considerate. And you should grow your hair out so it can flow sexily in the wind."  
  
Derek rolled his eyes. "Please don't ever try your hand at writing."  
  
"See, a proper Jane Austen hero, trying to stifle my dreams just because it's not sensible." He put the bag of peas back on Derek's face and gently mouthed at Derek's shoulder. As Derek's hearbeat began to slow, Stiles hummed and dragged his claws over the golden skin of his chest. "I'm pretty jealous, though, so if anyone tries to hit on you, I'll probably rip their arms off."  
  
"And you say I'm the romantic one."


	4. Chapter 4

The next day at school, Stiles was really beginning to worry about his incoming confrontation with Kate. Derek practically never left his side, except for the one class they had apart.  
  
He was at his locker when he spotted Danny and waved him over. "Hey, Danny, how are you? Long time, no talk."  
  
"We run in different social circles," Danny pointed out. Stiles gave him an incredulous look and flung his arms open.  
  
"How can you say that? My boyfriend plays on your team! And you're both in lacrosse."  
  
"Hilarious. What's up?"  
  
Stiles casually leaned a shoulder against a locker. "I was hoping to call in that favor."  
  
Danny put his hands in his pockets. “What favor?”  
  
“ _What favor_? The one where I helped you make Jackson jealous like four years ago and he punched my boyfriend in his perfect face. Also the reason you are now replacing the stick up his ass. That favor.”  
  
Danny chuckled and nodded. “Alright, fine, I remember the favor. What do you need?”  
  
“You’ve got recording equipment, right?”  
  
Slowly, Danny raised an eyebrow. “Specifics?”  
  
“Pretty much anything that can record sound and/or video would be guh-reat, Danny boy.”  
  
A mischievous little smirk played on Danny’s lips. “For your bedroom escapades?” Stiles gaped at him. “You might as well just get your own, man, so you can record that stuff whenever you-”  
  
“Trust me, if it was for that I would just use my iPhone,” Stiles hurried to reassure him. “It’s for... a school project. We have to do a play sort of thing. I just need it for one night.” And hopefully they would get what they needed in that one night. Danny looked a little sceptical, but Stiles poked out his bottom lip.  
  
“C’mon, Danny. Remember how your douchebag boyfriend punched _my_ boyfriend when he was mad at _me_ and bruised his gorgeous, chiselled face? Because I do. Vividly.”  
  
He groaned, obviously remembering that day as well. “It just seems a little weird to call in a favor like that for a school project.”

Stiles shrugged. “We’re… really dedicated to this class? And everyone knows your equipment is the best.”

“Fine, alright? Fine, but if there’s any damage to it when I get it back, then _you_ owe _me_.” And with one last significant look to show how serious he was, Danny walked away down the hall.  
  
 _We have a camera_ , he sent off to his four co-conspirators before setting off toward the Physics classroom. He hadn’t intended to tell Derek he was going to call Kate out in person, knowing how it would only make him worry, but damn their weird psychic bond - Derek texted back almost instantly, _Don’t go to call her out w/o backup_.  
  
 _I’m just going to tell her to meet me at the junkyard, it won’t get violent_ , he texted back, already on his way to her classroom when Derek ran into him. Seriously, how did he do that?  
  
“Just wait, alright? Or leave her a note. Don’t go talk to her alone.” Derek gripped his arm, not letting him go, even though they both knew that Stiles could get out of the hold if he wanted to. Stiles glared. Ineffectively. Derek’s eyebrows were way more impressive than his.  
  
“You’re supposed to be in class, Mr. Perfect Attendance.”  
  
“Shut up. Stiles, listen to me. Just wait. If Boyd or Isaac were around, they could wait out here and listen in, and react quicker if... if necessary.”  
  
Stiles closed his eyes for a second and then opened them to look at Derek. “I’m just going to talk to her. I don’t think anything will happen, I’m not going to ask questions or anything, just to tell her to meet us in the junkyard.” He pulled him closer, Derek’s scent washing over him. “This part isn’t dangerous. She’s not stupid enough to do anything in school. If I go now, she should be alone.”  
  
Derek had probably been hanging around werewolves way too much the past ten years, because that was definitely a growl coming from his chest. “I’m waiting out here for you. You have one minute to walk back out before I call your dad and tell him you’ve been abducted.”  
  
“Will you come in after me then and save the day?” Stiles crooned, tracing exaggerated circles on Derek’s broad chest.  
  
“Yes,” he said, and then stood beside the door to the empty classroom.  
  
Stiles rubbed a palm across Derek’s cheek as he walked past, and went inside. Kate was in there alone, grading papers by the look of it. But she looked up when he walked in, and she gave the eeriest grin. “You’re looking particularly insane today,” Stiles began conversationally, and when she opened her mouth to respond, he continued, “but enough of the chitchat. I know you’re here to finish the business you started seven years ago. I also know you’re a psychopathic, narcissistic bitch who probably can’t resist a challenge.”  
  
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Is that so?”  
  
“Yes, it is. So here’s the challenge. Meet us at the Boyd Autobody junkyard tonight at eight.” Stiles crossed his arms, and tried his best to glare at her. He had to make it seem like more of the pack was going to be there, or else she might not even bother showing at all. If there wasn’t a crowd, it might not be worth it for her to show. Though that was just Stiles’ assumption.  
  
Kate flipped her hair behind her shoulder and shrugged. “Fine. Meet you at eight, then.”  
  
“You aren’t even going to ask what for?” Stiles said, lifting an eyebrow and glancing at his watch. “We could totally be planning to ambush your ass. Run you out of town.”  
  
“I think I can manage a few teenagers. If I come prepared.”  
  
He shrugged like it didn’t matter either way to him and strode right back out into the hall, where Derek grabbed his arm and dragged him as far away as possible.  
  
Once class was over, they were met by Boyd, Isaac, and Erica. The guys could obviously smell where he had been and wanted to know how it had gone. Stiles grinned at them. “She’ll be there. We’re going to have our proof and she’s gonna have to leave town forever.”  
  
Everyone had little smiles, even Derek, but they were all thinking about that night. Whatever was going to happen was close, and they couldn’t back down now, even if they had wanted to.  
  
“We’ll swing by Danny’s place after school and pick up the camera. Erica, you said you could get a recorder from your mom?” She nodded, and Stiles dragged a hand through his hair. “Good. Okay.”  
  
“I still think we should tell your dad,” Derek told him once school was over and they were cruising leisurely away from the coffee shop by Danny’s house. Stiles sighed, sounding bone-weary just to piss Derek off.  
  
“He’ll only alpha out and tell us not to go stirring up trouble.”  
  
“Always a wise choice,” Derek replied magnanimously, just to piss _Stiles_ off. Well played, sexy Judas. Stiles looked at him from over his hot chocolate.

“Derek, I need her gone. And I need to know if she had anything to do with... with my mom. We can’t tell my dad, and I don’t care if he grounds me for a hundred years. I have to do this.”  
  
And Derek understood, of course he had. Because the Stilinski house had become his own, and he missed Julia as well. He knew how Stiles could not rest until those questions were answered, how it ate at him. Derek nodded.  
  
“You worry about me too much,” Stiles griped, poking Derek’s shoulder with his elbow. “You’re the fragile human here, not me.”  
  
“Hunters don’t kill humans.”  
  
“Hunters also don’t kill innocent werewolves, right? Oops - apparently that’s not true.” He sucked a bit of the whipped cream from the little tab in the lid. “As far as we know, she could hurt you too strictly on the principle that you fraternize with monsters.”  
  
Derek shrugged, and reached over to grab Stiles’ hot chocolate, taking a sip. “It’s true. But I’m still coming.”  
  
“Yeah, I suppose you are,” Stiles said with a sigh. When he was done his drink, they walked the short distance to Danny’s house from the car, and he was already at the door with the camera in hand.  
  
“Remember, not a scratch. And it’s digital, so once you’re done you can upload it to your computer and then erase it from here. I don’t want to see what you guys do in it.”  
  
Derek’s stare was digging holes into the side of Stiles’ face, which he was blatantly ignoring. “You sure about that, Danny? I hate to break it to you, but nothing you’ve seen before could ever hope to compare to -”  
  
“We’re leaving,” Derek growled, hooking his fingers into the back of Stiles’ t-shirt and tugging him away. Stiles waved with his free hand as he stumbled backwards, croaking a weak thank you to their amused, slightly worried peer.  
  
Stiles gave him a wave before looking at Derek, laughing at him. “It’s so easy to make you embarrassed. Everyone knows we’re dating, it’s not like we’re hiding anything.” The camera in his hand was fairly small, which was good for their purposes. It would be much easier to hide somewhere. Derek’s brows drew together and he didn’t deign that with a response. Stiles snickered. “Come on, love muffin - the only way I’d let anyone else get a glimpse of your sweet ass is if for some reason you thought it would spice up our relationship.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“I wasn’t petitioning for it!”  
  
“I don’t want you to get any ideas.”  
  
Stiles snickered as they made their way to the house. They would meet at the park again later that evening, where they were planning to meet up with the gang before they went to the junkyard. They needed to go over some last minute details after all. It would be horrible to get there and realize they don’t know how to turn the camera on or something else stupid like that. But for now, Stiles could feel his wolf prowling restlessly under his skin, too high strung and anxious and ill-prepared for maintaining the upper hand, and he knew that the only thing that would settle him was a couple of hours going over plans in his head in his own home with Derek’s body on his.  
  
Not for the first time Stiles thanked the universe for his father’s slightly hectic work schedule because it meant the house was empty. They quickly made their way to his room, and he left the camera on his desk before pushing Derek down onto the bed. “Hey... Can I see the bite mark?”  
  
Derek looked up at him with a little frown. “Stiles, we don’t have enough time to turn this into a snugglefest. When you get in the zone, sometimes I can’t get you out for hours.”  
  
“It’s not... I just need it, okay? Please.” So Derek sighed but pushed himself back up to strip his shirt off and turn around until he was sitting cross-legged with his back to Stiles.  
  
The scar stood out against his skin, and Stiles ran his thumb along the edges. And then he started kissing along Derek’s shoulder, because seeing it almost always turned him on. He wrapped his arms around the human, feeling Derek’s strong muscles under his skin. “Today will work out fine. We’ll all get out of this,” he said, partly to reassure himself. Derek grunted, reaching back to grip at the back of Stiles’ neck.  
  
“We’d better. It worries me that you’re so nervous about this when you’re the one who orchestrated it in the first place.” Stiles brushed his fingers over one of Derek’s pecs, catching on a nipple. He could hear Derek’s heart jump. “Are you serious? _Now_?”  
  
“What better time? Come on Derek, we have like three hours before we have to meet her. And two hours before we’re meeting the trio at the park. Just enough time to do this, have a shower, and eat something.”  
  
“If you fuck me, we won’t have time to eat.”  
  
Stiles kissed the side of his neck. “We don’t have to fuck. I just need to touch you. A lot. And kiss. Preferably with tongue.”  
  
“I’m getting flashbacks to middle school now. Thanks.”  
  
Laughing, Stiles roped his arms around Derek’s neck and wrestled him down, crawling on top of his body once he was all stretched out and just planting himself there comfortably.  
  
Derek reached up, running hands down Stiles’ body. Stiles started kissing him, all over his face, occasionally landing on his mouth. Dammit, it _was_ like middle school. But he didn’t mind, especially when their erections rubbed against each other. So it wasn’t sex, but at least it was something. It wasn’t even pressing, not really. Most of the time, arousal was just another pleasant symptom of just being in Derek’s company. Something about being so close to his scent and his naked skin just made Stiles’ dick react. For a halting moment, he wished he hadn’t planned anything. That he had remained angry and bitter in an ultimately passive way toward Kate. That he could just stay here with Derek and curl around him for the rest of the evening without putting either of them in the potential path of danger, to kiss and touch and never leave the bubble of comfort they’d created here.  
  
But then he remembered the way she had touched Derek, and he just couldn’t let her stay like she was. Stiles pushed up and worked on Derek’s fly, determined to at least have him in his mouth. He jolted and looked up when Derek smacked his hip. “Take your pants off and get your ass up here.” And Stiles squinted for a moment before his eyes widened with comprehension.  
  
“You wanna 69? Someone’s feeling kinky!”  
  
“You always want to suck me, you never think about what I want,” Derek said with an eyeroll and a little smile. He got to watch Stiles awkwardly slither out of his pants, and then presented his ass to his boyfriend happily. Derek sucked in a breath when Stiles pulled his dick out from the V of his unzipped jeans, and in retaliation, Derek clamped one hand around Stiles’ thigh. The other he used to grab Stiles’ stiff cock and guide the tip to his mouth, smoothing over it with the flat of his tongue.  
  
He probably wasn’t as good at sucking cock as Stiles was, because he didn’t have as much practice, but Derek was still proud of the small hitch in his breath. Derek traced the vein running along the length of his cock, and rubbed his balls with a hand. Shifting his hips upward, he smirked momentarily when Stiles started griping about getting stabbed in the face by his ‘giant raging cock’ before his mouth fell open in a silent moan as Stiles swallowed him down. The thing about Stiles was, his gag reflex? Nonexistent. And Derek’s worked overtime. He could barely stand to have Stiles’ dick more than a couple inches behind his teeth before his throat convulsed and he had to back off.  
  
Not that Stiles seemed to mind, however. Derek liked mostly mouthing along the length, head tilted back and Stiles’ hips hovering over his face. And then he put both hands on the werewolf’s hips, running along till he was fingering at his crack. Stiles made a choking noise and backed off long enough to complain, “You said there’s no time to fuck and yet you start probing my ass? Methinks the human doth protest too much.”  
  
“Shut up and suck my dick,” Derek huffed, to which Stiles just laughed and obliged.  
  
But, since he couldn’t give as good of a blow job, he might as well add some extra stimulation. Derek wet his finger with spit and went back to mouthing at his cock, while he found Stiles’ puckered entrance and circled around it.  
  
Over him, Stiles sagged a bit, and once again pulled off. “You just like my ass, don’t you?”  
  
“I really do,” Derek agreed, grabbing Stiles’ thighs. He manhandled them apart and brought Stiles’ lower half closer to his face and sucked one of his balls into his mouth, tugging at Stiles’ dick. There was almost too much friction since the spit had dried, if Stiles’ high-pitched groans were anything to go by, so he stopped to stimulate the head with slow circles of his thumb.  
  
Stiles rocked his hips into the motion, mouthing at Derek’s cock. He was clearly being careful to not take him too far, because that could be dangerous when he was also being stimulated. Derek didn’t mind, however, loving seeing the flush spread over his whole body, turning his pale skin into a milky pink. While he worked his cock with a hand, Derek traced a few freckles on Stiles’ cheek with his tongue. Stiles’ body convulsed and he had to pull up off of Derek to let out hoarse little giggles. “Are you licking my ass?”  
  
“You’ve got a constellation back here,” Derek said, opening his mouth wide enough to sink his teeth into it. He could probably tease Stiles about the wolfish bark that that elicited for weeks.  
  
Of course, his teeth marks faded almost instantly, but it was still making Stiles squirm. Derek thrust his hips up, his cock bumping into Stiles' chin, and he went back to sucking him down. So Derek started licking at the skin just behind his balls. Stiles’ involuntary hip-jerk mashed them into Derek’s chin and he grunted before laughing and manhandling him back up by his thighs. “Being t-bagged isn’t half as sexy as you might think,” he huffed, and Stiles choked, smacking Derek’s hip and pulling off.  
  
“Will we ever just have a soulful fuck, or do you intend to ruin all of them with your teenage boy-ness?” he asked bitterly, rolling off of Derek to lay beside him on his side. Derek rolled over, too, and Stiles craned his neck up over his shoulder to glare him down before navigating his dick back into his mouth.  
  
Derek gave a smirk, but grabbed Stiles’ cock, and wrapped his lips around it. He couldn’t take it very far, but Stiles didn’t seem to care, as every once in a while he would moan, the vibrations making Derek’s eyes roll back in his head. Instead, he paid extra attention to the sensitive head, alternating between soft suckles and hard suction, lapping at the underside until drool gathered at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t a particularly nice feeling, but making Stiles shiver certainly was, so he concentrated on making that happen. Precome blurted out onto his tongue when he went back to tracing a dry finger around Stiles’ hole, and he swallowed it down.  
  
When he pulled at his balls with a free hand, Stiles pulled off with a moan. “Ah, Derek, I’m gonna-” But he cut off with a gasp, and Derek had to swallow down his load of come, some spilling out the sides of his mouth.  
  
Stiles sagged against the bed, and then started lazily sucking at Derek’s cock, rolling his tongue around the head. Derek groaned, burying his nose into the soft hair below Stiles’ navel, trying to hold his hips at least somewhat steady. It became harder and harder to do with every sweep of Stiles’ tongue. And then he took his mouth off and began to jerk him off. “C’mon,” he slurred, kissing Derek’s exposed thigh. “Wish you would’ve fucked me. Tonight, tonight when we come back, want you to push me down and fuck me hard like before. Fuck me ‘til I can’t think, want it so bad, Derek,” and then he was coming hard, and Stiles was catching it all over his face, growling softly in contentment.  
  
After a second, Stiles pulled back, wiping the come off his face and licking it from his hand. He gave a grin at that, and then rolled off the bed. “Shower time! We have a tight schedule, remember, and I need at least half an hour to eat.”  
  
Derek groaned, getting up even though his limbs told him to stay in bed. “Half an hour to eat? You can down a pizza slice in two minutes.”  
  
“Maybe I want fifteen pizza slices, Derek, geez. Judgmental much?” A pillow glanced off his head and Stiles just cackled. Derek pulled on his boxers.  
  
“I’ll make something while you shower to save time,” he grunted, feeling drowsy and content. He could almost forget that they would be doing the most dangerous and stupid thing they’d ever done in a few hours’ time.  
  
Once they were ready to go meet the gang, Stiles put a hand on his shoulder. “Wait... I want you to have something.” His hand was behind his back, and he was obviously stalling.  
  
“We have to go soon, can it wait?”  
  
“No, it can’t. It’s for tonight.” Stiles pulled his hand from behind his back, and in it was a hand gun. “It’s from my dad’s safe. And you might need it... just in case.”  
  
He had been taking shooting lessons from Stiles’ father for two years, they both had. But that was shooting tin cans, and occasionally clay blobs that were thrown in the air. But Derek took a breath, and grabbed the gun. “If I get caught with this and go to jail, I am so blaming you.”  
  
“Good thing my dad’s the sheriff, huh,” Stiles said breathlessly before pulling him close and kissing him hard. He tasted like Sprite, and when he pulled away, Stiles leaned his forehead against Derek’s and patted his cheek. “That’s number one in a series of two kisses, babe. The next one is when we’re heading to our death, and you get to administer it.”  
  
“If it’s heading to our death, then you might go a long time without kissing me,” Derek said, eyebrow raised.  
  
Stiles seemed to pause while thinking about it. “Well, you can kiss me as much as you want, but one of those kisses will be when we’re heading to our death. Whether that be today or when we’re eighty and all wrinkly and gross, well, the world gets to choose that.”  
  
“Let’s call your dad,” Derek rumbled, his grip on Stiles tightening. To Stiles’ nose, he reeked of trepidation, and in turn it made his wolf’s hackles raise. Even so, Stiles’ mouth was set in a firm line, which definitely did nothing for Derek’s anxious heartbeat. “Stiles, the closer and closer we get to this, the more I think it’s the dumbest idea you’ve ever had, and it’s freaking me out.”  
  
He looked down, grabbing onto both of Derek’s arms. “He wouldn’t approve of what we’re doing. He would say it’s stupid, and dangerous, and might start a war. It’s better if it’s just us.”  
  
“But what if something happens? I would rather he know than have anything happen to you. To any of us!”  
  
Stiles closed his eyes, his mind working through the problem. Then he nodded. “We’re meeting her at eight. My dad gets off work at eight thirty, so he’ll be home around eight forty, right? So what if I leave a message on the home phone. He always checks it when he gets home, and if we’re not back by then to erase the message, something went wrong.” Derek’s heartbeat spiked at that and Stiles whined, butting his forehead against Derek’s shoulder. “I need to do this, Derek. I have to know if she killed my mom, and why she’s here.”  
  
“Do you even have a solid plan?” Derek asked with almost no real semblance of confidence.  
  
He paused at that, fiddling with the phone he pulled out of his pocket. “Well... Just try to make her angry so she’ll say something? And then ask about my mom. But in a totally sneaky way. And catch it all on tape. And then give the tape to my dad, so he can show it to the Argents, and then they ship her ass out of here.”  
  
Derek didn’t look convinced. “And what if she _did_ do it? Will you... be alright with just letting them send her away?”  
  
“I’ll just leave that to Dad,” he said, flexing his fingers around the phone.  
  
“And if she didn’t do it and this makes the tension between us and the Argents worse?”  
  
“Then I’ll tell them she started it by trying to seduce a minor,” he bit back, knocking his temple against Derek’s jaw before standing up straight. “We have to go if we want Boyd and Erica and Isaac to find good hiding places before she shows up with her goons.”  
  
Realizing that the conversation was over, Derek nodded with a sigh. “Well, I guess we can do the message thing. Just in case.”  
  
“Just in case,” Stiles repeated.  
  
.  
  
One of the many reasons why the junkyard was perfect for these little late night ambushes was the blinding beam of the floodlights surrounding the yard. Boyd said it was to discourage kids who felt that horsing around in mounds of garbage was an edgy way to waste their time. But either way, it made it a perfect place to get their video. The other three entered to scope out nearby but well hidden locations, making sure their escape route was planned if it became necessary. Isaac ran inside the main building once to pee, but after that, Derek and Stiles made themselves comfortable in the open area near the center of the lot. It may have been perfect for an ambush, but it was the only space with room enough to house a fight, if they had to, that was also hidden from the road.  
  
Isaac was hiding in a car right beside them with a tape recorder, to make sure that they caught everything that was said. Erica was a little ways away seperated from them by a tall pile of garbage, with the camera set up, so that they could get the perfect shot, Boyd nearby her for backup. Derek had the gun hidden away in the back of his pants, and Stiles was already scanning the area for anything suspicious. They were as prepared as they could be, all things considered.  
  
Twenty minutes before their set meeting time, Derek must have gotten sick and tired of Stiles’ anxious twitching and shuffling, because he grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him close to kiss him hard and dry, a worried frown on his face as he pulled away. “There. Number two. Since we’re heading to our death now.”  
  
Stiles gave him a grin. “That was a pretty pathetic kiss if it’s the last one we might ever have. There wasn’t even any tongue.”  
  
“Death kisses don’t get tongue. Deal with it.” Derek shoved his hands into his pockets. He was a little surprised that Kate didn’t show up early, maybe to scope out the area before they got there. Which wouldn’t have worked in their favor, he supposed, since it would have foiled their plan. Stiles nudged Derek’s foot with his toe and whuffed in muted amusement.  
  
“You look so cranky. Maybe we should have taken a nap instead of blowing each other all that - yes, Isaac, I’m aware you can hear me; if you don’t want to hear about our sexcapades, don’t listen.”  
  
“You’re just lucky I haven’t turned the recorder on yet,” a grumbled voice came from right behind them.  
  
Derek sighed and leaned back against a car. “Maybe we should stop talking, in case she shows up early and hears the accomplice who is supposed to be hiding,” he said, not even glancing to where Isaac was.  
  
Stiles snorted at that. “I don’t think Isaac will blow our cover. Boyd and Erica are making out already.”  
  
“That had better be a joke,” Derek grumbled just as Isaac’s faint, muffled voice whined, “No fair!” But Stiles complied and leaned against Derek’s shoulder, if only to stave off the nervous jitters. Hunters could smell fear, and it just wouldn’t do for any of them - especially one who could have been his mother’s murderer - to see his.  
  
The next few minutes were torturous, waiting for something to happen. No one was talking anymore, and even Erica and Boyd had settled in. Derek was just looking at his watch for the tenth time when there was the sound of a car. Well, Derek couldn’t hear it, but he saw Stiles perk up and jerk his head in the direction of the noise, and he traced the back of Stiles’ hand with his thumb to remind him that he was right there beside him before slowly drawing away to fold his arms over his chest.  
  
After a few torturous seconds, Kate walked around the corner, flanked by two rough looking hunters. There were no visible weapons, but she was wearing a jacket because of the chill in the night, meaning she could be hiding any number of things. Derek tensed, but tried not to stare so conspicuously.  
  
She turned to the two other hunters and jerked her head. “Take a walk around. I don’t want any surprises.”  
  
Stiles smirked. “Seriously? How big do you think our pack is that I could bring other packmates in without the alpha knowing.” He held up a finger. “Conversely, if you want a multifaceted bluff here, we have you surrounded. Or maybe it’s just us and we have a hidden arsenal up our sleeve. Or maybe we’re here completely unarmed looking for a little chat and are deeply insulted that you felt the need to bring muscle. What, too scared to come alone?”  
  
Kate stared at him for a good twenty seconds, then nodded to her cronies. “Go on.” Then she turned back to them, sauntering a little closer. “Alright, kids, what’s up? Are you gonna try to entice me into something, or was this little pow wow just for fun?”  
  
“Of course it’s for fun,” Stiles scoffed. “Chatting it up with creepy murderous cougars is the height of amusement. But that’s just my humble opinion.”  
  
“Speaking of muscle,” Kate said, eying Derek from where he stood looming behind Stiles. “I see you brought yours.”  
  
Derek smirked at her, but stood still beside Stiles. Stiles scoffed at her. “And you brought your own. How'd you convince them to come out and intimidate a bunch of kids? You strip them of their dignity so anything goes? Seems like something you would do.”  
  
“If this is supposed to be insulting, then you really don’t know how to rile a lady up. But I know exactly how to rile _you_ , Stiles.” Her gaze lingered on Derek for a second just to prove her point. Stiles bared his teeth at her.  
  
“That’s probably because I have something worth protecting and all you have are your psychotic delusions. That’s karma for you.”  
  
“What, someone takes away your mommy and you think you deserve anything more than death yourself?”  
  
Derek tensed next to him, but was amazed when Stiles didn’t make a move. In fact, he grinned. “It’s almost comforting, to know how you became such a homicidal bitch. Just like your father.”  
  
Kate’s jaw tensed slightly. “At least I’m not a real bitch, like your mom was. Did your dad bury her in the back yard?” She sneered. “That’s what you do with dogs.” And Stiles’ eyes were flashing blue in the late summer dusk, but he reeled it back in. Evidence. He needed a solid confession, and then maybe his father would let him rip her throat out. If he gave in to his urge to do it now, what would happen to Derek? To his father?  
  
“I know about your father. Gerard Argent. He was a fucking psychopath who killed innocent werewolves, and anyone who got in his way. And he raised you the same way,” Stiles was saying, and Derek wondered where he had learnt all that.  
  
“My father was an amazing hunter. He did what needed to be done, and didn’t let some stupid Code get in his way, unlike Chris.”  
  
“That _stupid code_ is what actually separates the man from the beast.” He flashed a bit of fang. “Get it? It’s a joke about how the way you hunt makes you the real monster. I thought it was pretty funny.”  
  
She crossed her arms under her breasts, stepping forward. In the background there was a clank as the cronies shoved over piles of scrap. “Killing monsters doesn’t make me one. Because that’s all you are. Filthy monsters that deserve to die.”  
  
“Newsflash,” Stiles growled. “My mom? She was a saint, you piece of shit.” He could feel his claws grow and clenched his fists to hide them. It was hard to talk with a mouth full of fangs, but somehow he managed by biting out every word. “She worked a soup kitchen on Sundays. She visited orphans on Christmas. Who even _does_ that?” Anger flooded him until he could almost see red. “Nobody, really. Not anymore. And you cut her down because you’re your father’s mindless killing drone.”  
  
Kate actually laughed at that, the bitch. “Let me tell you about your mother. Before I cut her down like the dog she was, she had already mauled a one of my men. She tore into him like a pig before I shot her full of aconite, and when she lay there dying, she whimpered like a mutt.”  
  
After that, when Kate drew her gun, Derek didn’t know if she was prompted by Stiles’ roar, or by the strangled cry and the sound of gunfire that came from behind the towers of scrap metal. Either way, it didn’t matter much, because she’d already begun shooting at the blur of movement that Stiles had become as he crisscrossed over the space, dodging wolfsbane bullets by the skin of his teeth. Derek did as he was taught and backed up against the nearest scrapped car, so he couldn’t be attacked from behind, and pulled out the sheriff’s handgun. Switching off the safety, Derek aimed steadily at Kate’s legs.  
  
The sound of Isaac bursting out of his hiding spot startled him so badly that he almost dropped the gun, but the other werewolf disappeared quickly over a mound of metal, presumably to where Boyd and Erica were. Kate was distracted too, just for a moment, but it was long enough for Stiles to be on her in a heartbeat, ripping and clawing at her shoulder.  
  
Kate screamed at the pain, and Derek watched the fight with a steady hand, ready to fire once he had a clear shot. But when the bitch pulled out a knife, gleaming with what had to be wolfsbane, he had to take a chance. He shot, and the knife fell to the ground as she clutched at her hand. “Stiles, run!” he yelled, heart beating fast in his chest.  
  
But Stiles didn’t run. He reared back, fangs fully extended. Derek ran towards them, trying to pull him back. “Stop! Stiles!”  
  
“Go ahead, bite me like the monster you are!” She yelled, but instead kicked out Stiles’ leg. She was obviously the better fighter, but Stiles had strength and speed on his side. Kate was trying to reach her gun with her uninjured arm, but Stiles tackled her to the ground. They both went down, and Kate was trying to reach into her jacket, presumably for another weapon.  
  
Derek could tell that he wasn’t going to get a shot in, not a clear one anyway, so with his heart pounding against his chest he put his gun away. With a quick look around, he made sure that no one else was going to be joining the fight, he couldn’t even see the two cronies. So with that, he darted forward to the fight.  
  
“Stiles! Come on, run away! You don’t want to be a killer!” Derek yelled, because he didn’t want Stiles to be a killer either.  
  
At first he didn’t think Stiles even heard him, but then he yelled in a mostly human voice, “Point your gun on her!” Derek did as asked, and then Stiles quickly jumped off and joined Derek, Kate’s gun in his hand. Both he and Kate looked horrible; Kate was torn and bloody, gruesome shreds of skin peeled back to reveal shiny red muscle and blood, and Stiles’ hand looked broken, even though it was slowly healing. They all stared at each other, and he didn’t move the gun from her face the whole time. They both started backing up, weapons trained on her person, but heading down their escape route.  
  
“Don’t come after us!” Stiles said when they were a reasonable distance away, then he grabbed Derek’s hand and they turned and ran.  
  
The first sign something had gone wrong was laughter behind them. Then Stiles must have heard something, because a second before a grenade fell five feet away from them, Stiles pushed Derek to the floor and covered him with his body.  
  
A second after that, there was a deafening boom and the crash of falling metal.  


* * *

_17_  
  
“They’re _tame_ , Derek,” Stiles sniffed, flopping down on his sleeping bag next to Derek. He rolled his head to the side to pout up at Derek’s face, which was half covered (quite ruggedly, he might add) in stubble. Stiles knew from scrubbing his own jaw that he was pretty fuzzy himself after nearly a week since his last shave (in the sink of a truck stop bathroom nearly a hundred miles west of their location in the Colorado mountains), but Derek had spent most of their roadtrip perfectly content with his mountain man look, and Stiles had to say... he could get used to looking at that gorgeous face half-hidden in coarse hair.  
  
Derek looked down at him away from his book and quirked a brow. “So what you’re saying is, you didn’t catch our dinner because it wasn’t entertaining enough for you.”  
  
“Sorry, baby,” Stiles sighed. In consolation, he flopped an arm over Derek’s thighs. “Gutted squirrel isn’t on the menu. I’ve 86’d savaged bunny as well.”  
  
“It was you who wanted to ‘reconnect with your wild side’, how are you going to do that if you can’t catch our dinner? Because it didn’t run fast enough?” Derek asked, marking his book and putting it on his knee.  
  
Stiles shrugged and rolled over to ruffle through his own backpack. “We could probably order pizza.”  
  
“Because the pizza guy delivers to the middle of the woods,” Derek said with a gesture around them, indicating that they were definitely in the middle of the woods where GPS would not follow. Stiles turned to grin at him, making sure to flash a bit of fang.  
  
“It’s the perfect beginning to a horror movie.”  
  
“Yeah,” Derek said evenly. “The one where the monster is too stuck up to catch placid squirrels.”  
  
Stiles gaped at him, drawing his eyebrows together to show just how insulted he was by that. “Well fine, why don’t you go catch our woodland friends? If you want to eat Thumper, then you can go right ahead.”  
  
Derek sighed and looked around. An idea began to form in his head and he glanced back at Stiles craftily. “Hey, why don’t we have a contest? I have my gun, you have your teeth, we see who catches the most food. Then we probably won’t have to go hunting for the rest of the week.”  
  
And he knew that he had him, because Stiles just couldn’t resist a challenge. In fact, he perked up right away, and Derek knew that if he shifted into his beta form, his ears would be twitching. “Yeah? A competition? Derek, you’re challenging a creature of the night. You get that, right?”  
  
Derek pulled the rifle John had given him for his sixteenth birthday out of its case in the corner of the tent and smirked, just a little. “Why don’t we make it interesting? Maybe a little wager.”  
  
“That’s gonna be hard to do,” Stiles said, but his dubious tone was tinged with curiosity. “What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine. What could we possibly have to offer each other except outlandish sexual favors?”  
  
“Nice try,” Derek snorted. “If I win, once we get home, you have to do all my chores for the whole first month of school.”  
  
“You lazy asshole.”  
  
“Pot, meet kettle.”  
  
“Fine, ditto for my chores, _when_ I win.” Stiles gave a grin, and just after he turned his head, hearing something. “Starting now!” he said before bolting off, running on all fours.  
  
Derek smirked and walked into the trees, rifle in hand. It would have helped having Stiles’ super hearing, but even for a human Derek’s hearing was pretty good. He knew it was at least close to a fair bet.  
  
The first time he had ever gone hunting, John had been on one side of him and Stiles on the other, their protective instincts working though they didn’t realize it themselves, because they’d been warned earlier by one of John’s deputies about mountain lions in the area. When there’d been a faint sound of snapping twigs in the distance, Stiles, who had been all of twelve years old, had turned his head sharply in that direction, his eyes glowing blue.  
  
Derek knew that for Stiles to have just run off without a care like that, it meant that the area was safe, and he had nothing to fear.  
  
Now, Derek scanned the area for any sign of an animal, hopefully one bigger than a rabbit. He knew that for a werewolf to take down a big prey, he needed a pack, so Stiles was stuck to catching small animals. Derek, on the other hand, could shoot down a buck if he found one.  
  
Not that he put it past Stiles to go for a buck just to prove he could, the prideful imbecile. Derek might have been worried about that if he didn’t know that being gouged in the guts by antlers would only momentarily deter his boyfriend. Not that Derek wished any harm upon him, but he’d _really_ like four whole weeks without being expected to take out the garbage.  
  
After about half an hour, he found some fresh tracks, which he followed. Derek was good at being quiet, having perfected the art of sneaking around a werewolf for the better part of his childhood (even though it only never really worked). So when he finally caught sight of a decent-sized doe, she didn’t hear him. Soundlessly, he rested the butt of the rifle against his shoulder, unlocking the safety, and bracing for the inevitable recoil when the sound of shuffling over grass caught his ear. He removed his gaze from the scope and glanced up, groaning inwardly when a little fawn stumbled into the dappled sunlight after its mother, bumping against her side.  
  
“Damn,” he whispered, lowering the gun. Chances were he wouldn’t find another deer, but four months of chores wasn’t worth taking a mother away from her baby. Derek quietly left them in peace, and resigned himself to shooting at birds for the bet.  
  
After two more hours, Derek had a duck a gander, which he knew couldn’t compare to whatever Stiles had caught. He took them back to the camp, where his boyfriend was already starting a fire. Surrounded by a few wild hares, a vole, and... something Derek couldn’t identify, Stiles was streaked with mud and sweat, and he smiled triumphantly to see Derek had lost the bet. “Your cockiness came back to bite you in the ass.”  
  
“No, my respect for nature did. I had a deer, but before I could shoot, her fawn spoiled the thrill of the kill for me.” Derek depositied the birds beside the other animals. Now they would have to start the gut wrenching process of skinning them all. He’d definitely leave that to Stiles, who took a sort of grim pleasure in freaking Derek out by gutting them in the flickering firelight.  
  
Stiles, however, was just staring at him from the other side of the fire, his eyes wide. “Wait... dude. You saved Bambi’s mom?”  
  
“... From myself, I guess.”  
  
“You totally saved Bambi’s mom!” Stiles yelled, and stumbled around the fire to kiss him. “My boyfriend is a hero!”  
  
“I don’t think you understand, I just didn’t shoot her,” Derek said, rolling his eyes. But he didn’t hate the praise, even if it was a little misplaced.  
  
Stiles glanced down at the animals he had caught, a contemplative look in his eyes. “Well, maybe since you would have won if you hadn’t been so nice, we just drop the bet? As a reward for saving Bambi.” He grinned, kissing Derek’s nose teasingly. “My Disney prince.”  
  
“Am I not paying you enough attention? Is that what this is?”  
  
Stiles just wrapped his arms around Derek’s shoulders and leaned all of his weight against him until slowly, inch by inch, Derek fell to the ground on his back. He sighed as Stiles rubbed their stubbly cheeks together. “You’re going to start a brushfire.”  
  
“Shut up, Prince Derek. Let me bask in how wonderful you are.”  
  
“I’m gonna go back and run her through with a tent pole.”  
  
“No you won’t, because you’re a soft, mushy, compassionate lover of beasts.”  
  
Derek snorted at that, because yeah, he really did love beasts. “Your fire poking stick is burning,” he said, which brought an abrupt end to the cuddles.  
  
“My stick! It was the best stick! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Stiles whined. His attempt to save it was to no avail, so he broke it in half over his knee and threw it into the fire. “I have to find a new poking stick. And then we can start getting the dinner ready.”  
  
An hour later, Derek sat with Stiles snugly between his thighs and a chin hooked over the werewolf’s shoulder, watching the fire burn under the makeshift spit and roasting duck. The nights in the Colorado mountains were cold, but cuddling Stiles was like having a space heater pressed along the front of his body - a space heater that snuggled so far into Derek’s four layers of clothing that you’d think he wasn’t generating enough heat for the both of them. “Is it weird that I like it when you smell like gunpowder?” Stiles asked after a wide yawn.  
  
“Yeah, that probably is pretty weird. Is it weird that I’m not totally turned off that you kind of smell like blood?” Not to mention the cooking meat right in front of them.  
  
Stiles wiggled against him. “I don’t think that’s weird at all.”  
  
“Good. Because it’s your fault.” He nosed at the back of Stiles’ ear and rubbed his chin over the pale, soft skin of his neck just to hear him laugh. The fire crackled and let out a couple of pops, one flame licking high enough to encompass the bird’s body. Stiles hummed thoughtfully.  
  
“Does this mean we’re gonna do it?”  
  
“In your dreams,” Derek replied sweetly. Stiles grunted.  
  
“It’s just a little mud, you big baby.”  
  
“Mud and feathers and wherever the hell those animals rolled around in before we killed them.”  
  
“We just washed off in the stream before the sun went down!”  
  
“Because _that’s_ totally sanitary.”  
  
Stiles huffed and turned around so he could look at him. “Does this mean we’re not going to have sex until we get back to civilisation? Because I don’t think I can last that long.”  
  
“You know how sweaty and gross we get after sex. Add that to how gross we are now, and your nose would probably sprout legs and run away,” Derek said matter-of-factly.  
  
“One day we’re gonna be ancient and sitting in creaky old rocking chairs while our great-great-grandkids are zooming around on hoverboards and when they give us all of seven seconds of their time to ask us stories about our wild and crazy youth, we will never get to tell them about the two months we spent out in the woods, communing with nature, making sweet love under the stars.”  
  
“My dick has absolutely no interest in ‘communing with nature.’ And why do you imagine a future where our predecessors want to know about our sex life?”  
  
“Let me have my fantasies, Derek. They’re all I have left in this world.”  
  
He made a humming sound that said he agreed with Stiles but only because he might be crazy. “And how do you think you’re going to last two months? It’s been two days and you are already complaining that you get no cell service.”  
  
“I could survive it if we were having sex. Like, a lot of sex. Like so much sex we don’t even bother wearing clothes anymore, 'cause they just slow us down.”  
  
“It sounds amazing,” Derek said, “until you start thinking about parasites and dirt and grime and how the only bathing we’ve done in nearly a week is jumping in and out of a snow-fed stream like idiots just long enough to rinse off the soap lather.”  
  
“My balls crawled back into my body so fast,” Stiles mused dazedly, almost in wonder.  
  
“And you have the advantage of a naturally warm body temperature. For me it almost felt as cold as when I fell in the ice,” Derek said, shuddering at the memory.  
  
Stiles instinctively wiggled closer. “Yeah, that was a bad day. But I really don’t think I can go much longer without sex. Can you stop being a clean freak for the next half hour? Actually no, the half hour after we eat?”  
  
Derek huffed, but it was a fond sound. “I thought about it last night.”  
  
“Yeah?” Stiles said, perking up with interest.  
  
“Yeah. I thought about touching myself, preparing myself to get fucked by you. Stretching myself until I was ready and waking you up just to fuck me.” He gently kissed the lobe of Stiles’ ear. “And then I remembered the lizard that got into my sleeping bag last week and I thought, no fucking way am I leaving my ass wide enough for any rogue wildlife to crawl through.”  
  
Stiles burst into wild laughter, his whole body shaking against Derek’s.  
  
“So you’re saying that if it wasn’t for a lizard, I would have gotten laid last night?” Stiles asked, pressing against him, still shaking with laughter.  
  
“Pretty much.” Derek said, hiding his smile in Stiles’ hair. “The duck smells done. Should we try it?” he asked, pushing Stiles away and standing up himself. “I really don’t actually know how to tell if duck is done or not.”  
  
Stiles looked at the cooking meat, biting his lip. “Yeah, I don’t know either.” He gave a sigh and looked over at Derek, who was taking it off the fire. “Hey... there was a hotel near where we parked the jeep. Wanna go there tomorrow?”  
  
“This is so we can have sex, isn’t it?”  
  
“And shower, and eat more than roasted meat for breakfast surrounded by dead animals. If I’m gonna be honest, smelling them might have been a boner kill, even if you’d been amenable.”  
  
“Tomorrow then,” Derek agreed, spearing a huge chunk of meat from the rarer side and passing it to Stiles before getting some for himself from the charred underbelly.

**Author's Note:**

> If you are so inclined, feel free to follow [Byacolate's Tumblr](http://byacolate.tumblr.com/) and [Tyger's Twitter](https://twitter.com/Whitetyger123).


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